Friday 25th July 2025
Blog Page 652

Review: Eugene Onegin at St John’s College Auditorium

Alice Williams
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Review: Eugene Onegin at St John’s College Auditorium

At risk of deserving serious rebuke, I’ll confess I’ve always found it hard to care about the plot of Eugene Onegin: an arrogant nobleman rejects an infantile, infatuated teenage girl only to fall at her feet years later in her husband’s house. In the meantime, Onegin duels and kills her sister’s fiancé over a disagreement so minor it’s almost infuriating to witness. It’s hard not to feel as if the whole thing’s a bit unnecessary. Whilst Pushkin can draw you into such machinations over the time it takes to read 390 stanzas, a two and a half hour performance is far less of an investment, and thus demands a level of instant commitment that is not always easy to conjure up.

Once I’ve witnessed Onegin shoot his close friend in a duel that escalates from his own banal idiocies, as Act Three progresses I’m not so committed to his sudden passion for Tatiana. All these groanings and moanings, however, dwindle to total irrelevance amidst Tchaikovsky’s glorious score, which needs no elaudations from me. However grinch-like I am, it’s impossible to be irritated by Tatiana’s letter scene, or Lensky’s arioso in Act One, or the horrors of the duel scene. Jack Holton’s deep, rolling baritone carries Onegin’s melodies with warmth and ease, which beautifully plays off Alexandria Wreggelsworth’s mellifluous, soaring soprano voice that was delightfully centred and full. The two together are, gratifyingly, the nexus of the production.

The People’s Opera’s Eugene Onegin was a feat of achievement in challenging circumstances. The St John’s College Auditorium was no friend to the orchestra, which was crammed in with the timpani and harp placed on the edge of the stage itself for want of space; the fact that the opera simply stayed together was an achievement in itself, let alone that it produced a successful performance. The strings playing two to a part (difficult in any case) in that dry, concrete acoustic should have been an impossible task, but despite fortes being significantly easier than pianos they made a lovely sound expertly conducted by Hannah Schneider. The woodwind were particularly impressive, producing the most stunning warm, delicate and tender lines.

One of the most beautiful moments occurred when the singers moved into the aisles of the stalls to sing the chorus at the Larin ball; an inspired decision that allowed the voices to balance so well with the orchestra amidst the otherwise overly-zealous acoustic. Dominic Bevan really came into his own with Lensky’s aria ‘Куда, куда вы удалились…’ and Grace Lovelass’ Olga was gleefully easy in presence and vocal capacity. This semi-abridged version (running for 1 hour 45 minutes) was a little incoherent at times, occasionally involving extended orchestral passages accompanied by an empty stage (the polonaise that opens Act Three is such a gift to inventive, interesting direction on stage that I wondered whether something more could have been done with it). But as I said to begin with, it’s somewhat irrelevant whether or not the narrative makes sense when the score is so glorious. It’s an opera that draws rising joy and deep distress into conversation with each other, throwing both into relief, which The People’s Opera and Oxford Alternative Orchestra inhabited with powerful intelligence.

In full: rich colleges hinder outreach efforts

Fin Kavanagh and Abby Ridsdill-Smith
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In full: rich colleges hinder outreach efforts

Magdalen, Oriel, and New spent less than half a percent of their college budgets on outreach in 2017/18, Cherwell can reveal.

Freedom of Information requests sent by Cherwell also revealed that Magdalen spent £47,000 on college organised outreach in 2017/2018, less than any other college except St Hugh’s. This is despite the fact that Magdalen is the third wealthiest college in Oxford, and boasts assets of £272 million.

On average, colleges spent 0.9% of their annual budgets on outreach. By comparison, New College spent 0.47% of their annual budget historically on outreach, although they have pledged to pay 1% from now on.

Several colleges also provided a breakdown of outreach spending. New College’s ‘Step Up’ programme (which is “designed to inspire and support state school students throughout
Year 11, 12 and 13”) supports 21 schools and colleges. 10 of these schools have been ranked ‘outstanding’ by Ofsted.

Warden of New College, Miles Young told Cherwell: “One needs to be careful in highlighting data such as Ofsted in isolation.  It’s just one data set a College should be looking at, and we look at many.  For instance of our seven schools rated ‘excellent’ these are two schools with a higher than national average of FSM students (one is nearly double the national average).  One of these schools also have over fifty percent of students classified as Black / Mixed Black Heritage

“[These schools also include:] Three schools in under-represented areas (the SW and NW of England), one school where roughly 80% of the school are non-White, and two schools for girls.

“If excluded, Oxford would miss out on these pupils. The lesson is that one should be as holistic as possible when selecting schools for sustained outreach.  The willingness and the enthusiasm of the school is also important.”

St. Anne’s spent £93,000 on two five-day summer schools in Hong Kong and Singapore in 2017/2018. The summer schools helped fund around £120,000 of domestic outreach resources and activities overall.

Queen’s also cited a poetry translation exchange as one of their main access programmes. The exchange promised to host events “including an international literature book club, […] international writers visiting Oxford, and a residency for an international writer.”

However, some colleges have spent a consistently high amount on access and outreach. Of the 30 undergraduate colleges, Christ Church and Wadham have budgeted the most on outreach for the past three years. Both spent over five times as much as Magdalen in 2017/2018. Pembroke had the third highest level of spending at £217,000.

The majority of colleges are also set to increase their access budgets in 2018/2019. Trinity and Magdalen will more than double outreach spending in this period, while Jesus will increase spending by £56,000.

College outreach spending 2017-18

St. Hilda’s is the only college which expects to spend less in 2018/19.

Lord Adonis recently called for radical new access initiatives, encouraging the University to create new colleges for disadvantaged students. Speaking on Cherwell’s findings, Lord Adonis said: “It unfortunately does not surprise me that some Oxford and Cambridge colleges, particularly the richest ones, are not doing enough to ‘widening access’ since there is a deep seated culture of complacency.

“These findings show that incremental change at existing colleges is a limited solution, and we now need a new generation of “access” colleges with an exclusive focus on recruiting disadvantaged young people from the 3000 “non-Oxbridge” schools and colleges.

“This research shows that there is huge scope and resources at Oxford and Cambridge throughout to make this kind of transformational change on access happen – what is needed is the impetus colleges with a dedicated access mission would provide.”

The findings follow comments made by VC Louise Richardson in November 2018. She noted that as colleges are responsible for recruiting students, they should also be responsible for access and outreach initiatives.

These comments were met with frustration by students, including then Mansfield JCR president, Daria Lyskyakova, who said it was the role of the Vice Chancellor to “effectively encourage colleges to prioritise access and allocate their resources in ways which would best aid students in need”.

James Turner, CEO of the Sutton Trust, also spoke on Cherwell’s findings, noting: “Our research has found big variances in the proportion of state school students admitted to different Oxbridge colleges.  We want very college to put widening access at the heart of their admissions policies, by investing in the most effective outreach activities and by setting ambitious plans to address social inequalities.

“While committing financial resources is an important part of this – and it is disappointing to see rich colleges spending a lower proportion of their budgets than their peers – what is also important is evaluating the impact of access activities to make sure every penny makes a difference.”

Lucas Bertholdi-Saad, VP Access & Academic Affairs at Oxford SU, added: “It is quite depressing to see such stark figures and the continued inaction to increase access across the University. Colleges should be leading the vanguard on access issues but they are sadly lacking behind.”

A spokesperson for Magdalen college told Cherwell that:“the combined total of Magdalen’s access and outreach including Student Support Fund grants was £456,000. The figure [quoted] of £47,000 for college organised outreach work in that year was lower than intended because of discontinuities in staffing. However, a comparative figure for 2018-2019 is expected to be over £115,000, and an overall spend on Access and Outreach
to be over £550,000.”

A spokesperson from St. Anne’s college said: “St Anne’s College is committed to being a diverse and inclusive community and works hard to encourage and support students from under-represented backgrounds to make successful applications to the University of Oxford.

“As a College with a comparatively small endowment, this work is only possible because of the support of donors and because of other income-generating activities run by the College.

These include our international summer schools, which have proved to be a means by which the College can generate income. No funding has been diverted from UK outreach to undertake international summer schools, which have all more than covered
their costs through charges to participants or by donations given specifically for this purpose.

“St Anne’s has always been and remains proud of its international relationships and we believe that these continue to be vital for our staff and students.”

On occasion where colleges did not provide expenditure for 2017-18, estimates and averages were calculated based on figures from the previous two years.St Hugh’s, Queen’s, Oriel, LMH and New were contacted for comment. Comments received from colleges will be updated online.

* In our printed copy of this article, a spokesperson from St. Anne’s is misquoted with comment that should be attributed to the Sutton Trust. Lord Adonis is also partially misquoted. We apologise for any confusion caused.

Government announces new measures to improve access

Angus Brown
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Government announces new measures to improve access

The government’s Universities Minister, Chris Skidmore, and the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, David Lidington, have announced new regulations requiring universities to publish a record of their efforts to tackle ethnic inequality in the university admissions.

The new measures, organised by the Office for Students (OfS), will also hold universities to account on how they improve outcomes for under-represented students from all backgrounds.

Amongst the data which universities must now publish publicly are statistics on admissions and attainment, broken down by ethnicity, gender, and socio-economic background. League table providers will also be encouraged to take this data into account in future university rankings.

According to the OfS’ Race Disparity Audit, although record numbers of BAME students are attending university, only 56% achieve a First or 2:1, compared to 80% of their white peers, and that black students were the most likely to drop out of university.

David Lidington told members of the press that “I am determined that nobody experiences a worse outcome solely on the grounds of their ethnicity, which is why the Government is making a clear and concerted effort, alongside higher education partners to tackle these injustices.”

Meanwhile Chris Skidmore said “I fully expect access and participation plans, which universities will be drawing up this year for implementation in 2020-21, to contain ambitious and significant actions to make sure we are seeing material progress in this space in the next few years.

“It is one of my key priorities as the universities minister to ensure that I work with universities to highlight examples of best practice in widening not only access, but also that we redouble our efforts to tackle student dropout rates.”

The Office for Students, which was formed in January last year, has previously threatened Oxford with sanctions if they fail to improve their access outcomes, making them one of just three higher educational institutions to have conditions placed on their registration with the OfS.

The University was contacted for comment.

Selection of Will Pucovski: a triumph from the unlikeliest of sources

Cal Flintoff
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Selection of Will Pucovski: a triumph from the unlikeliest of sources

It’s fair to say that Australian cricket is experiencing one of its more turbulent periods, a series of fallouts and fracas, bans and bust-ups like those normally reserved for the game on these shores. When Ed Smith announced an unchanged England squad for the upcoming tour of the West Indies, it was a reflection of the equanimity of the current side; Australian test selection has never felt so quite so contrived and impulsive, and most of the absorbing plot lines centre perpetually around the characters who instead will not take the field, or those that are simply banned from doing so, but nonetheless so self-assured of their return come March anyway.

The antithesis of a well-run sporting board, Cricket Australia has navigated the fallout from the ball tampering crisis like a proud admiral continuing his voyage despite the ravaged sails but charting his course straight into the heart of the Bermuda triangle. The new-look power dynamic of Justin Langer and Tim Paine are desperately attempting to re-write years of unfettered aggression and withering mental disintegration with their personal flavour of elite mateship and earnest stump-mic-ship, but occasionally the mask slips, and the brash interventions of Michael Clarke, the toying with Glenn Maxwell, the ceaseless booing of Mitchell Marsh in the MCG at Christmas, and even the apathy towards a bloated Big Bash point to a more permanent rupture through the heart of the game.

There have been two recent interviews in particular that stand out, the juxtaposition between making it tempting to cast the two as potential precursors for the culture Australian cricket ultimately wishes to adopt and mould: a cricketing Bandersnatch decision but with real-world ramifications.

The first stars Cameron Bancroft, fresh from exile and scoring sizeable runs back for the Perth Scorchers. Interviewed by Adam Gilchrist, a fellow Western Australian, Bancroft discusses the saga, revealing his pride in being held accountable in the immediate aftermath and a fascination at the public clamor for every forensic detail. What becomes apparent is that Bancroft does not understand the ugly winning culture that his comparably minor actions willingly betrayed in the public eye, or the desperate need for change that would be directly at odds with his own immediate re-installation.

Or, perhaps more appositely, he does not want to understand: he is remorseful, but only for his dastardly naivety, not for the brazen mentality that bred the very existence of the sandpaper in the first place. It is an attitude underlined by his very public cravings to open the batting with David Warner once more; a re-coupling of the duo would smack of superficial rather than systemic lessons learnt. Bancroft might well be the fall guy, but he is all too happy to play the role.

Which brings us to the second interview: a genuinely refreshing and progressive discussion from… hang on… a young Australian cricketer, about… something non-yellow, non-abrasive, and on a topic of magnitude that has plagued so many in the past, none of whom have found quite the same courage nor insightful articulacy to front up to their demons so willingly, never mind in the embryonic phase of a career, at a time of national tumult.

Will Pucovski was 20 years and 256 days old when he scored 243 in a Sheffield Shield match for Victoria at the WACA, earmarking his huge potential; he has played just one match since but is in line to make an Australian test debut before the age of 21, less than 100 days older in number but a whole lot more in character and wisdom.

Resuming on 64* overnight, Pucovski arrived at the ground the following morning for a routine net, but things were so amiss that he felt compelled to confront the issue and pulled his coach aside. After compiling the mammoth innings, the right-hander was forced to leave the field of play during day the Western Australian reply: post-match it was announced he would be taking an indefinite break from cricket due to a mental-health related issue.

For a player who usually recalls his stroke-making “vividly”, the innings that inducted him into the pantheon of greats – Bradman, Ponting, Ian Chappell – to register a double-century at such a young age is much of a blur, the situation a “cheat code” out in the middle, but a crippling vice in the field, alone in his own thoughts and intensely fearful of the ball arriving  in case his team-mates were let down. It is a neat encapsulation of this selfless character, intent on offering true transparency, not for himself, but for the benefit of others.

Speaking on Fox Sports’ Follow-On podcast for the first time, Pucovski said he aimed to lift the “dark cloud” that had been cast over his sudden sabbatical: to get it all out into the open and positively channel his own challenges and coping mechanisms to help the litany of others who deal with the same issues, too often too privately.

The discussion is admirable, the individual even more impressive, and the widespread reaction, although I say this tentatively, suggests that the taboo over mental health in sport is being broken down willingly. Mental health issues are indelible and widespread throughout myriad frontiers in life, but for so long the held perception of sports stars has been synonymous with strength, endurance, resilience; their image has been of deities who are immune to the afflictions of others. Depression is being debunked and there is a clear understanding that accepting, and battling ‘weakness’ is a supreme show of strength in itself.

Pucovski is an unknowing trailblazer in that regard. That his on-field masterclass coincided with an off-field nadir may have been difficult to reconcile, not least to himself, and taking time away from the game to understand his own condition and seek out specialists such as a mindfulness coach was the paramount concern. His inclination to detail the process so readily is a breath of fresh air, and the youthful nonchalance through which he conveys the battle is hopefully a lead that many others can follow.

Clearly, his immediate absence thereafter only serves to accentuate the incredible character shown to compile the mammoth score. When you consider the potential predisposition to developing depression that his string of cricketing concussions gave him, the respect heightens. It would be oh so easy for Pucovski to bite the hand that feeds him, to be angry at Sean Abbott’s bouncer and develop a distaste for the game on the back of rotten luck; instead, he embraces the sport that has given him a fledgling career but also affected his mental state. Previously it may have been highly embarrassing to admit in the public eye, too caught up in the notion of providing the opposition a stick with which to beat, to pick at the frayed edges as David Warner launched into Jonathan Trott down under in 2014. As a generation though, maybe we are beginning to see honesty and openness as the virtues a steely sheen may once have been.

As the excellent Sky Sports series ‘Mind Games’ showed this summer, cricket is now a pursuit at the forefront of treating the mental side of the game with the same forensic detail as extensive sport science teams view the physical aspect. Figures such as Andrew Flintoff and Marcus Trescothick have been excellent ambassadors and key figures in that development as they have stepped away from the intensity and rigors of the international game.

Trescothick initially found it difficult to speak his mind, and perhaps the perceived ignominy of leaving two England tours as an already entrenched member of the squad naturally hindered his clarity, the spotlight that bit brighter. In that sense, it could be a blessing in disguise that Pucovski has stood up to his mind so young.

Still, it feels incongruous that such a triumph has come from the unlikeliest of sources. Andy Murray has always said that his Wimbledon tears were a rare moment he let “the mask slip”, but also the first time he felt truly respected for his endeavours; with Pucovski, it feels like there is no mask: staring Australian cricket right in the face is a vision of how they should want to play the game, rid of toxic masculinity and masquerading as macho. Allowed to flourish, Will Pucovski can be a bellwether for their future.

Timing has been key for both of each interview’s protagonists, but only once has it been employed with good intention. It was hardly a coincidence that news of Jonny Bairstow’s headbutt filtered into consciousness as the self-titled heaviest head in the locker-room cruised to a red-ink score and a maiden 10-wicket Ashes victory, smug and sanctimonious. It is likely no coincidence either that the day after the Follow-On podcast aired, Pucovski was named in the Australian test squad.

SU creates survey for “vulnerable” student sex-workers

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SU creates survey for “vulnerable” student sex-workers

Oxford’s student sex workers are being asked whether the University is doing enough to ensure their safety and wellbeing in a new survey initiated by the Students’ Union.

SU VP Women Katt Walton, who wrote the survey, told Cherwell: “There is a demographic of students at this University who are engaging in sex work. I want to get information on how many there are, whether they felt that the University currently supports them, and if the University not providing enough financial support was a factor.

“There’s obviously a massive stigma around sex work, and I wanted students to feel like if they needed to access University support through, for example, through the Sexual Violence Support Service or through the counselling service that they wouldn’t be met with hostility or judgement if they disclosed that they were sex workers.”

The 43-question survey was sent out last week and asks about a multitude of aspects of sex work, from how it has affected the respondents’ self-esteem and their perception of the attitude towards sex work to the intricacies of their safe sex practices, how they advertise, and what services they provide.

Walton told Cherwell: “I was worried students might feel uncomfortable filling the survey in and might not want to engage with it, but it has been really successful. Hopefully it will give us an image of what sex work is like in the University.”

The survey also examines the demographics of student sex workers, including what college at which they study. Walton said: “Some colleges have a lot more money than others, so I think it might come out that students are having to fund their time as a student through sex work.”

Anna (not her real name) agreed to speak to Cherwell about her experience as a student sex worker. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to cover her living costs in Oxford, she entered the sex industry during her Masters out of financial necessity: “I spoke to a friend who had experience as a sex worker and it seemed like an option that could suit me.”

She has engaged in a number of types of sex work, primarily escorting and ‘girlfriend experience’- when a client pays for a sex-worker to pretend to be in a relationship with them during the session.

She told Cherwell: “The reality is that I definitely like sex, but sex as a sex worker is absolutely a chore. The cost of student living though seems to be ever increasing, so sex work is one of my main means of survival at the moment.

“It’s an incredibly dangerous type of work to be involved with and in the past, I have felt threatened and at risk with clients, which has caused significant mental and emotional obstacles in my life to overcome that have impacted on all sorts of relationships.

“I was unable to have sex with my partner without crying for quite a while during my first summer as a sex worker.

“The job is very risky – I was employed by a company one summer as an intern on the condition that I had sex with the boss whenever he wanted.

“To be honest, that job really fucked with me because I had to be constantly aware that he could want sex at any time and I had to be prepared to give it regardless of how I was feeling in case I lost the job or he withheld my wages (even if I was
tired, ill, didn’t want, etc.).

“Being cautious about what pictures I share anywhere on social media is something I’m always alert about in case a client finds it somehow.”

Anna also said that student sex workers are especially vulnerable because clients know they need money: “I once had a client ‘forget’ to pay me after 3 hours of sex, and another who requested that I go to his house to do incredibly hard-core bondage overnight for only £200.”

She told Cherwell that the University should do more to support sex workers: “It’s hard to access support without outing yourself as a sex worker unnecessarily. The University could provide or at least sign-post sex workers to Hepatitis B vaccines (of which there’s a national shortage), regular blood tests, and free condoms, lube, and other forms of contraception.

“In addition, supporting student sex
workers emotionally, with counselling and therapy, is something the University certainly has the resources to offer potentially through the Counselling or Student Welfare Services.”

Anna spoke positively about the SU initiative, telling Cherwell: “We’re a very vulnerable group in many ways – we’re often anonymous, and do our work secretly which entails huge risks. The University has the capacity to protect and support all of its students – even invisible minorities.

“The SU’s survey of sex workers I think can hugely benefit sex workers as a community because we would no longer need to be as isolated or hidden as before. That can only be a good thing.”

Sex work is currently legal in England, Wales, and Scotland. However, almost all activities surrounding prostitution other than buying sexual services are illegal.
A University spokesperson said: “We strongly discourage students from taking part in any activity like this which exposes them to dangerous situations.

“We encourage any students facing financial difficulties to talk to the hardship officer in their college or the central university’s hardship fund. All students should also feel comfort-
able to approach their college welfare team or the central services team if they have
any welfare issues.”

The National Union of Students (NUS) conducted a similar survey in 2016. One of the insights that survey provided was that more than half of students sex workers identified as LGBTQ+, and over half stated that they had a learning disability, other disability, long-term health condition, or impairment.The National Union of Students (NUS) conducted a similar survey in 2016.

One of the insights that survey provided was that more than half of students sex workers identified as LGBTQ+, and over half stated that they had a learning disability, other disability, long-term health condition, or impairment.

The Pitchfork Disney Review – ‘reality and morality is blown apart to become a nightmare’

Imogen Harter-Jones
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The Pitchfork Disney Review – ‘reality and morality is blown apart to become a nightmare’

Hoof and Horn’s production of Philip Ridley’s seminal play, The Pitchfork Disney embarks upon a drug and chocolate fuelled trip “on the ghost train” into the deepest, darkest and most disturbing realms of human imagination and fear. There are many deeply twisted fairy-tale elements to this surreal, intense and shockingly grotesque story of two claustrophobic 28-year-old Hansel and Gretel-like twins who are trapped in both the physical filthy house where they were abandoned at the age of 18 and their own mental prisons of childlike confused terror. When the deeply sexually repressed Presley (Alex Fleming-Brown) invites Cosmo Disney (Alasdair Linn), a perfect and manipulative stranger “with blond hair and a menacing angelic beauty” and psychotic tendencies into their flat – the twins’ contorted conception of reality and morality is blown apart to become a nightmare.

From the moment you step into this play the direct ‘in-yer-face’ nature of the performance is abundantly clear- the fourth wall is well and truly broken, which is ironic considering that the dysfunctional twins Hayley (Lou Lou Curry) and Presley Stray blockade themselves from the real world; like strays, they are truly lost. Cyrus Larcome-Moore’s Pitchfork Cavalier successfully sets the tone of the play, prowling around the theatre menacingly mixing malevolent laughter with mock-innocent childlike interaction. Lingering at the back of the stage with periodic musical interludes, Pitch is an ever-present symbol of darker evil whose true intent is hidden by a threatening black mask with his diabolical energy penetrating other characters’ psyche.

Alex Fleming-Brown and Lou Lou Curry artfully capture Presley and Haley’s irrational and incessant mood-swings shifting from vulnerable child to wily manipulator. In the early stages of the play Curry’s direct and powerful emotion reflected the true childlike fear and instability of Haley’s mind. Although Ridley’s writing stunts Haley’s character growth by limiting her to an unconscious doll which the male characters play with, this is itself a reflection of how women are perceived in society. Fleming-Brown’s portrayal of Presley was impressive especially his many powerfully delivered monologues which blurred the lines of reality and fiction, dream and nightmare. I was equally struck by his fastidious attention to tiny character tics. Cosmo is a sinister, sexual, serpentine and oddly-charismatic insect-eating showman shrewdly and terrifyingly played by Alastair Linn: he turns their home into his performance area. When he and Haley are explicitly homophobic in their interrogations of Presley’s sexuality, Fleming-Brown plays furtively with his t-shirt and his momentary glances betray his true desires which he too is running away from.

Equally noteworthy are the physical manifestations of the themes and preoccupations of the characters on stage through symbols and scenery, such as the large rug with motifs of the play scrawled across it, resembling a primary school child’s drawing, reflecting Presley and Haley’s key obsessions and childlike mentality. Chocolate wrappers litter the stage and are compulsively consumed in conjunction with “Mummy and Daddy’s medicine” – an addict’s mania – leading to Presley’s nickname, “Mr Chocolate”. Like Tracy Emin’s ‘My Bed’ Felix Morrison’s carefully crafted but subtly understated set-design mirrors the inner psychological chaos and transforms the twins’ existence into a physical reality.

Given The Pitchfork Disney’s reputation for shocking audiences and its direct treatment of homophobia, racism, sexual assault, violence and extreme erotic desire, Bertie Harrison-Broninski astutely avoids directorial temptation to portray these sensitive issues in a hyper-graphic way. Be left in no doubt, this production definitely is bold – it disturbs, shocks and takes us on an emotional journey. However, Harrison-Broninski also allows for subtler actions, including the twins’ uncomfortably intimate touches over chocolate-stained white pyjamas, which are just over the line of typical familial boundaries, to provoke questions about love, family and wider sexuality.

Step on “the ghost train” and see this sensational, exhilarating and swift-paced play which is impossible to ignore.

Who’s direction is it anyway? An interview with the director of How to Make Friends and then Kill Them

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Who’s direction is it anyway? An interview with the director of How to Make Friends and then Kill Them

How To Make Friends and then Kill Them is an all-female play about friendship, growing up, and three-sided relationships, written by American playwright Halley Feiffer. Having premiered in an off-Broadway production in 2013, this term Oxford will see its first performance in Europe – and at none other than our very own Michael Pilch Studio.

I sit down with the play’s director, Charlie Rogers, to discuss the play in greater depth. He tells me that the play is set in rural New York, following three women from childhood to adulthood and the friendships they forge with one other. Sisters Ada (Simone Norowzian) and Sam (Imogen Front) form a dramatic duo, but soon draw the quieter Dorrie (Saraniya Tharmarajah) into the equation. The play traces how this three way dynamic shifts as they each drift into adulthood: ultimately, Rogers says, revealing “how they ruin each other’s lives”.

I go on to ask Rogers more about his intentions behind staging the play – what drew him to it initially? He explains that he thought a lot about space when considering the play, and How To Make Friends and then Kill Them is a text well suited to the blackbox framework that Oxford does best. I find myself agreeing that the space of the venue should be at the forefront of a director’s mind when putting on a production, and look forward to seeing how it’s reimagined here in the UK.

However, Rogers and I’s agreement to discuss this production together was to an extent precipitated by the publication of an Oxfess, which appeared around the time of Coningsby Productions’ audition process last term.

#Oxfess26477 read: “What the f**k is up with male directors in Oxford taking plays with all female specified casts, with themes that are explicitly about the female experience and then deciding its appropriate to direct them? Don’t take expressions of women’s experiences and behave as if you have any right to interpret, let alone f**king DIRECT them. Honestly, the arrogance of some people here astounds me.”

The anonymous writer of the Oxfess raises a clearly topical point around the ethics of theatre production – that we should not partake in direction outside the scope of our own personal experience. It’s an increasingly common opinion on a contentious subject – but is such a viewpoint justified?

Rogers tells me that he first became interested in the work of Hayley Feiffer whilst working for the Finborough Theatre’s Literary Department over last summer. He explains that Coningsby Productions were successful in obtaining the rights, after a long process, primarily due to his work at the theatre. With the writer’s backing, Rogers questions, surely a director should feel that they are able to successfully put on a show?

Rogers remarks that the play, of course, deals with a number of “sensitive issues” and that many of these are interwoven into the experience of being female, simply because the characters happen to be women. Overall, he says, How To Make Friends and then Kill Them deals with themes “relatable to all,” such as addiction, friendship, and how things both change and stay the same as one grows from childhood into adulthood.

But, crucially, Rogers outlines his role of the director. He emphasizes the fact that a director serves simply as a facilitator, and that their job is “to make them [the actors] as good as they can be.” The rehearsal process is a wholly “collaborative” experience, he continues, and in this way the characters fleshed out on-stage are not simply realisations of the director – they are products of a process which incorporates multiple influences and perspectives.

Rogers goes on to argue that if we were to place restrictions on what certain people could direct and what they couldn’t, we would have a “literal vision of theatre” by which only those who have experienced something can attempt to understand it. He offers the example of William Shakespeare’s King Lear – can one only direct this play if they have suffered through madness? If we want to “redress the imbalances of theatre,” Rogers continues, we need to attempt to tell stories that are not identical to our own.

In this play’s case, I do not align myself with the views of the anonymous Oxfess-er. To argue that only a female director should direct How To Make Friends and then Kill Them is to foreground the issue of gender without concern for the play’s other themes. Equally, if we are to insist that such a play only be directed by a female director, I think there is a danger we ignore the fact that humans have quite a lot in common after all. If we are to immediately distrust a male director who wants to put on a play with an all-female cast, are we inadvertently suggesting a man shouldn’t have any interest in the female experience at all? – because that sounds like a very ominous vision for the future of theatre.

That being said, I find myself thinking that, for certain productions, directorial experience with a subject matter can be important, particularly those which are intersectional or have been historically silenced. For example, a play about the black female experience would most likely prove more authentic and effective if it were to have a black female director who could preserve the authenticity of the final product. And of course, at all stages of the directorial process, communication with the represented group is key. But, crucially, each play should be considered individually and judged as a final product. The audience has the ability to decide if a production is successful, and I very much look forward to seeing Coningsby Productions’ How To Make Friends and then Kill Them in fifth week.

Interview: quantum gravity physicist Carlo Rovelli

Tara Sallis
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Interview: quantum gravity physicist Carlo Rovelli

Our perception of science has changed. It is often the case that when we learn someone studies a science, we let out a groan or a hum of surprise. Whilst this may come from sympathy, admiration, and curiosity, the separation between scientists and the rest of us can seem vast. But this separation hasn’t always been there. Scientists used to be more occupied with literature, philosophy, and the arts. René Descartes, George Berkeley, Galileo, and Leonardo Di Vinci are some of the philosophers and polymaths who saw science as part of life’s philosophy. Science, for them, was part of life’s beauty and a tool of appreciation. The popularisation of science, through people like Brian Cox, Stephen Hawkings and Richard Dawkins has helped bring out the awe and romance for a subject that for many elicits a deep wonder.

One of the most influential, meditative, and eccentric popular science writers is Carlo Rovelli: a man inspired by the beauty of the discipline, who has reached millions of people with his insightful and accessible books.

Rovelli is an Italian physicist, best known to the public for his popular science book Seven Brief Lessons on Physics, but renowned in the academic world for his role in the creation of loop quantum gravity theory.

As well as his illustrious academic career, he has always been involved with the politics, culture, and people surrounding this subject. In recent times, he has written extensively for the culture supplements of various Italian newspapers including Corriere della Sera, Il Sole 24 Ore and La Repubblica.

As a student, he was involved with the foundation of two political radio stations and was later temporarily detained for crimes of opinion in the 1980s due to the controversy of his book Fatti Nostri. His individual, free-thinking, and rebellious approach make him a fascinating member of the scientific community.

Rovelli’s classically Italian mannerisms and eccentric enthusiasm make for a warm but engaging interview. His written responses come in frantic, clipped sentences and vividly told tales. He speaks first about his journey into physics, not with the usual one-track determinism of those who have dedicated their lives to a subject, but with a carefree respect for pure chance.

“I did not know what to do with my life when I was a young man. I did not imagine I was going to have the life I have had.” He explains. “I was very confused, attracted by all sorts of things. I was curious, rebellious and I did not like school. I was thirsty for all possible life experiences, so I read a lot and travelled.”

The picture that Rovelli paints of his school days marries up with his compelling career. He ended up studying physics at the University of Bologna in 1978, before doing a PhD at the University of Padova.

He tells me, “I chose to study physics a bit by chance, and perhaps I was attracted by the fact that it was a very general subject. It was only in my third or fourth year of university that I began to actually like physics. I was sort of falling in love with the beauty of the subject, which came from a love for life.”

Since discovering his love for physics at university, Rovelli has written multiple popular science books to share his passion with his readers, including The Order of Time, Reality is Not What it Seems, and most famously, Seven Brief Lessons on Physics. Like many things in his life, he puts much of the writing of this best-selling book down to chance.

“It all started with an article in a newspaper. I was asked to write about my own research into quantum gravity for the cultural supplement. I knew that the topic was too hard, because most people do not even know what ‘quantum’ means, let alone anything about Einstein’s theory of gravity. But my girlfriend said, ‘Well, then write three articles: one to explain quantum, one to explain gravity and the last one on quantum gravity’. At first I laughed, then I thought, why not? So I did it.”

In his anecdotal, humorous style, Rovelli continues, stressing the serendipity of his opportunities. “These articles had remarkable success, to the point that a mythical Italian publisher, Adelphi, contacted me and suggested I expanded the three articles into a book. I still thought it was a crazy idea but, I gave myself the objective of condensing the core of modern physics and my own fascination into a slim 80-page book. I put my passion for science into it, and my general world view.”

Rovelli has not limited himself to writing about the theory of physics. He has also reflected on science as a discipline, and the conflict between science and religion. In his 2011 book The First Scientist Anaximander and His Legacy, he expresses many of his views on these topics. His passion for the philosophical questions of science is clear, and he tells me that this book, out of all of them, he is “particularly attached to”.

“Each book has a different story and the process can be extremely different. My book on Anaximander simply grew out of notes that I was taking for myself when reading. I realized how amazing Anaximander had been and how immense his influence was on the subsequent development of science. My notes grew very, very slowly, while I was studying and reading.

“When one of my friends read them, they suggested I transformed them into a book, using Anaximander to detail what I think about the deep nature of science. Because I was working in this way, it took years before the book was complete.”

This book provides an insight into Rovelli himself, with provocative questions being raised throughout. Tellingly, he titles one of his chapters ‘Rebellion Becomes a Virtue’, a mantra that seems apt for his own life, as well as his understanding of the universe. He concludes the book with the idea that the success of scientific thinking is grounded in pushing the boundaries of our collective knowledge, and using acts of “learned rebellion” to break ignorance.

As our conversation moves towards his book on loop quantum gravity theory, Reality is not What it Seems, he again recants a story. He seems to have a well- rehearsed anecdote ready for the question.

“One night I was driving from Italy to France. The highway was empty as it was the middle of the night and I was thinking. Suddenly I got the idea of how to write the book and imagined its entire structure. I got excited and started putting together the book in my mind, until I realized that a police car was flashing me and I was going far above the speed limit. The policemen pulled me over and asked what the hell I was doing at such a high speed.”

Rovelli relishes the mischievousness of his rule-breaking and the theatre of the story. “I explained that I had just realized how to write my next book. The policeman smiled, wished me well for the book and let me go without a ticket. After that, the writing of the book was relatively fast. In a sense, I had been composing the book in my head for years. I just hadn’t found a way to structure it and I didn’t know where to start.”

The book reads as an account of the evolutions of science and philosophy. Rovelli stresses his core idea that, “our culture is foolish to separate science and poetry”.

He believes that science should be seen first as a lens through which to see the beauty of the universe, and not as a method that clashes with other disciplines.

He seems fascinated with communicating his complex ideas to the everyday reader and banishing the impression that science is in some way separate from our lives. But, when I ask him what the public should know more about, he gives one of the most passionate responses of our exchange.

“I think that the question should be put differently: the problem is not what the public ‘should’ know, but what people miss by not being aware of what we already know about the world.”

He expresses his frustration at people who do not approach science with the same wonder as him. “There is a beauty in all of this knowledge. There are marvellous treasures in the sciences and it is sad that so many people ignore them. It is like in music: there isn’t really music that people ‘should’ know, but ignoring music altogether means you are missing something beautiful in your life. Modern cosmology is extraordinary, and so is biology, and physics, and the list goes on.”

His animated response provides an insight into his own view of physics, but also his interest in writing popular science books on highly complex topics and agonizing over how to make them palatable for the every day reader.

As well as his popular work, Rovelli’s contributions to science have been remarkable. He has written over 200 scientific articles that have driven forward our understanding of gravity, winning an award for his contributions to theoretical physics in 1995.

This all began in the late 1980s, when in collaboration with Lee Smolin and Abhay Ashtekar he created the theory of loop quantum gravity. I ask him how he sees his popular books in relation to his ‘serious’ academic work and his feelings are clear.

“I prefer working on my science, my ‘serious academic work’. That is my true passion and what I mostly want to do. I see writing popular books as a side activity, and I hope it doesn’t absorb too much of my time.

”Despite these explicit preferences about his focus, he adds, “the books have given me contact with many people and this is a gift.”

The eccentric energy and rebellious spirit of Carlo Rovelli were apparent from our first exchange. He became animated with a boyish excitement when he spoke about his scientific work. His ability to connect with people’s childlike wonder and articulate his authentic, emotional desire to understand the universe is remarkable. Rovelli feels that chance has been the primary mover in his life, but for his readers, his ingenious skill, passion and love are what define his success.

It’s not brain surgery, so it must be rocket science: A Psychologist in the Oxford University Rocketry Society

Roman Hawrych
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It’s not brain surgery, so it must be rocket science: A Psychologist in the Oxford University Rocketry Society

This isn’t supposed to be a typical article. I’m not going to tell you about politics or protests or why you should be volunteering more on Saturdays – this isn’t really one of those. This is a long winded, rambling anthology about firing off homemade, solid fuel rockets high into the sky out near Bicester, and all the stuff that went into that. And it’s an open invitation for all of Oxford to follow us in the great adventure. So, you know, it’s supposed to be whimsical. You’ll have to let me know how I’ve done.

Finding a suitable rocket range anywhere near central Oxford turned out to be unexpectedly difficult; funnily enough, colleges that don’t let you tread on their lawns don’t take too kindly to your launching missiles off them either. Huh. Magdalen lets you play croquet off theirs, though, or so I hear. On that front, we actually got pretty lucky; our society president’s family has a farm out in East Bicester. It’s big enough to launch rockets up and descend them back by parachute safely, it’s out from under both Oxford and London/Luton flight restrictions during the weekend – and no tourists or thousand-year-old buildings we might accidently hit. We have special rocket insurance now, but early on, our events caused the clubs office insurance people at the uni some chagrin.

Of course, if you’re reading about rocketry, you want to hear about the launch days. That’s what it’s all about, what it all adds up to. Push a button, and the full sum of your hopes, dreams and fears leap, scream, and hiss into the air, all at once going 200 m/s. You swing your head back, watching the thing soar up with this awestruck, gaping smile automatically smacked onto your face. It’s glorious, even when it isn’t a big launch. Our “Launch Zero”, where the president and I launched one on our own rockets to test safety systems, resulted in a series of pinwheels, side to side loop the loops, and a lot of ‘wishing the fins had stuck on in there properly’. On the bright side, people seem to like loop the loops. On the downside, you don’t go very high up doing loop the loops, which is why I assume NASA tends to shy away from those sorts of maneuvers.

“Launch One” was an extraordinary endeavor, an auspicious day. I began, in the appropriate spirit, by waking up twenty past my alarm, and dressing like crazy person before flying out the door. We’d been up late into the night putting finishing touches on the rocket and trying to solve a computer error our Arduino avionics chip setup had been throwing – all to no avail, so we would be launching with no computers. It was alright, we had a 3D printed nosecone and fins to test, so we still had a mission to justify the launch.

We met at the train station, where I could see our fuelless rocket sticking, noticeably, out of a just-barely-too-small bag, back end out, with the fins clustered around. They were bright pink, stark against the body. The pink was for visibility, but the body was painted by a fine arts student who agreed to help – the thing looked gorgeous, black backdrop, all sorts of gold lines like circuits and wires dancing across it, it felt electric just looking at it. Dangerous, almost. Excellent, definitely. It’s a shame what happened to the thing, it would’ve been fabulous in a case. The OXS ‘Run Faster’, we’d named it – because if you were close enough to read it, that’s what you needed to do.

There was a lot of staring at the station, and a little pointing, but we were all too excited to care. I grabbed a desperately needed coffee, and we headed on through the gates. One of the guys working the gates actually stopped us to ask some questions about the spunky group of kids trying to carry a pretty conspicuous rocket onto a train. Is that a rocket? Yeah, it is, we built it. Are you going to, you know, launch it? Yeah, we are, we’re pretty excited about it. Oh, alright then. And then he waved us through.

Our taxi pulled in and we finished the third or so recap of the safety procedures. There would be a camera drone whizzing overhead, water buckets placed at particular distance intervals, people behind ‘safe zones’. One of the many things we’d learned from ‘Launch Zero’ was that we wanted more launch cable than the minimum required – in fact, we’d added twenty meters onto the minimum so we would be very comfortably far away. With everything set up, everyone ran out to their respective distances as we did a final check in over the phones. The countdown began, from ‘ten’ down the line. We hit two, breathed in to count one and then from nowhere a physicist yells WAIT over the comms. Pretty much everyone jumped or fell over, exasperated, frustrated, laughing. An instrument to measure altitude had been fumbled at the last second, of course it had. We yelled ‘stop’ at the final second, of course we did. What a trope, always happens in the movies. We figured that was our only goof up for the day.

We got through the count again, and hit the button. Nothing. The launch ‘idle’ light was on, which meant current was flowing out of the batteries, down the dozens of meters of cable, into the blast caps in the fuel slugs, and back out to the controller. The light would flicker correctly when we punched the button over and over again, which meant it was pretty sure it was working, despite the evidence to the contrary. Cursing, pacing, head scratching. Now that we’d punched the button, it wasn’t safe to approach the rocket for a good long time and not without taking all sorts of precautions – some of which call for discarding all the fuel that failed to ignite. How boring, how wasteful, how very much not what we came for. Eventually it dawned on us, flicking on like the idle light across the team, one after the other; looking to the extra cable, back to the remote and sighing. Finally, someone said it aloud, one word, ‘voltage’. There was extra cable, lots of extra cable. Lots of extra voltage drop. Meaning there was enough power for the test light to come on, but not enough juice to set off the blast caps. ‘We’re going to need a bigger battery’ came next.

For the record, we did some quick mental maths beforehand to make sure we weren’t going to melt any faces, and it looked good. The homeowner on the property had a riding lawn mower which ran off of a car battery – he was more than happy to loan it for a quick jump. Yes, we would be jump-starting our first brazen foray into the wild unknown, our precious rocket, like an old jalopy off of a car battery. And what a sight to behold, I tell you. Our intrepid president stepped up – ready to lay down his life in the noble pursuit of science (well I certainly wasn’t going to do it). Insulated garden gloves adorned, jumper cables held wide apart in either hand, with a steely-eyed-missile-man look that said I cannot believe what I’m about to do, he announced: we have a go. The countdown began. One way or another, it was going to be the last one. Three, two, one. Then, the Run Faster did just that.

Our team’s physicists keep telling me it couldn’t have gone any higher than 400, 500 meters at maximum, and that I’m being melodramatic on purpose, but I’ll swear until I die it soared for miles and miles into that great blue yonder – long after we saw the smoke trail off. Be that as it may, our physicists will die trying to prove me wrong. It might have gone as far as Mars for all we know. We never saw it again. We looked, and looked and looked and looked. All the adjacent fields were cow pastures, meaning manure, cow herds and all. Now that was one way to spend an afternoon. Splitting into teams, we went searching. It was supposed to have come down by parachute (and it may very well have) but we couldn’t see any evidence either way. Team one had more bodies, but team two had the camera drone, so we split the ground evenly. At first, when the cows got curious and the herd started rambling slowly and methodically towards us, some of our rocketeers became worried for a stampede and bolted right back over the fence. “Southerners” as one, I assume northern, physicist put it.

The final danger was the electric cattle wire all around the fields. Despite many warnings to the contrary, some rocketeers asserted it must be inert and would be fine. On team one, I was the liability, and had to be grabbed by the collar and yanked back from running into a cable about chest high. Wasn’t looking where I was walking.

We rode home that day cold, tired, our rocket missing in action, us literally covered in s-, and, heck, one of us even electrocuted (but oddly enough, not the one who handled the car battery). And yet, we were smiling, beaming with this giddy, ear to ear glean that must have made us look like an odd bunch on the way back. Hoots, hollers, the works. Yes, it could have gone better – but we launched a rocket. We. Launched. A. Rocket. I wouldn’t trade that train ride back home for anything.

We have fun, and we don’t take ourselves too seriously. The fuel, flight permissions, planning safety – no kidding around. But each other? Not a chance. Rockets are cool. Building the best rockets possible is gratifying. Doing it with the a brilliant, joyful, collaborative team – that’s a privilege and a pleasure. And, an invitation.

Sex Education review: exuberantly explicit

Hope Hopkinson
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Sex Education review: exuberantly explicit

Though the opening shots suggest a John Hughes or Stranger Things-esque setting in an endearingly overlooked middle-American town in the 1980s (with a soundtrack to match), Sex Education is Netflix’s latest contemporary, explicit, and very British discussion of sex, sexuality, and all that comes with it. The eight-part series sees seventeenyear-old Otis (Asa Butterfield), the sexually inhibited son of a relationship therapist, strike up an unlikely partnership with Moorfield High’s best answer to the ‘riot grrrl’ movement, Maeve Wiley (Emma Mackey). Together, they start a sex advice clinic
for their peers.

If I were asked to sum up the show in one word, it would almost certainly be explicit. Nearly every single one of the episodes opens with a sex scene of some variety, including straight up full-frontal nudity. Since its debut, it’s no surprise that a central talking point has been the appropriateness of the content for the intended audience. Taking pride of place on the streaming service’s front page alongside comparatively innocent teen shows such as Riverdale and Pretty Little Liars, the potentially affrontive nature of the show in relation to its target audience has been the topic of many headlines.

Several online news outlets have drawn comparisons between Sex Education and the controversial Thirteen Reasons Why, both of which utilise explicit imagery to forward their storylines. However, where the latter veers towards gratuitous trauma porn, Sex Education presents an honest and realistic representation of contemporary teenage culture.

It refuses to conform to the tiring tradition of sugar-coating anything that sits outside the realm of the PG-13, and this refusal makes it the relatable and refreshing show that it is. In their clinic (in reality, an abandoned, asbestos-filled toilet block), Maeve and Otis confront issues that are prevalent in young adults, removing the taboo and encouraging honest, open discussion. Combining these hard-hitting topics with some of the most quotable one-liners of recent times (see “she touched my eyebrows, and now I have an erection”) is what the show does best.

Aside from the issues directly tackled by Maeve and Otis in the clinic, the show shines in how it addresses the wider experiences of real teenagers. This is poignantly done through the character arc of Eric (Ncuti Gatwa), Otis’ best friend, and a victim of both verbal and physical homophobic attacks. His character arc sees him tackling these adversities as well as the pressures from his religious family. We also see the status quo being challenged through Maeve’s character. She is labelled a ‘slag’ and a ‘cock-biter’ by her peers, yet seems utterly unshaken in her sex positivity, reinforcing the revolutionary idea that women can actually enjoy sex too. In the second episode, Maeve falls pregnant and makes the choice to have an abortion. Instead of making this the focal point of her character arc, Sex Education does not let this define her. All the while, the topic is handled with great sensitivity, as an issue that is faced by women from all backgrounds and walks of life. The issues are breached with a comforting sense of normality, providing an honest and real exploration of the issues that many of its contemporaries push under the rug. It is welcoming that such a diverse and meaningful show is taking centre stage, reminding us that in whatever circumstance (really, whatever circumstance) we find ourselves in, we all need to “own our narrative” a little bit more.

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