Cherwell’s verdict: “a tragedy very much in progress”

It’s almost impossible to recommend anyone to see a play which was so much still “under construction” on the day allotted to a preview, not because I’m sure of the play being a failure but because what I saw may well bear no relation to what actually appears on stage. The cast, clearly well-directed by Marchella Ward, have taken what they described as a “bare-bones” script from Royal Court Young Writer Jingan Young, and are in the process of adding scenes which expose character psychology. An innovative idea, certainly, and one which would probably appeal to a modern audience, but at the moment these scenes are unscripted and so change radically from time to time. I was treated to one scene between Ismene  (Alice Porter) and Eurydice (Lucy Dawkins) which vacillated between a rather drawn-out and heavily laboured conversation and a passionate, engaging argument. I just hope it’s this second version which ends up on stage.

Another scene which had real potential was between Antigone, one of the more convincing actors, and Haemon, who try to “talk about their relationship” in what feels like a rather twenty-first century way. This is the other talking point of this production of Antigone – it’s certainly been brought into the modern day, with conversations including lines such as “This is a big mess”, and “do you know how crazy you sound?”, which sound suspiciously like the sort of thing candidates on that infamous television show The Apprentice say to each other in the depths of a mid-task crisis.

In a true Greek tragedy style, the cast incorporates a chorus of seven, “doing what a Greek chorus does but in a more sinister way”. These actresses will remain on the stage throughout, so that although they morph into various roles including journalists and commuters, they will always be identifiable as the riot mob who provoke the controversy of the whole play. The small slivers of chorus-in-action that I saw consisted of a run-through of a commuter scene on train; the cast were silent throughout but mimed simultaneous actions (such as newspaper page-turning, and leg-crossing) together. This could have been highly effective, but unfortunately the scene was nowhere near a finished product, and didn’t quite have the intended effect.

Whatever else it may by, this version of Antigone will be in no way alienating to modern audience, paying heavy attention as it does to our innate appreciation of “real” characters and agonised, fragmented conversations. But whether the cast will draw together before sixth week to produce a slick and well –polished production remains to be seen.

Cherwell’s verdict: “A nuanced comedy of poignant tragedy”

“What are you telling them?”, asks Brian, as he walks in on his wife Sheila unburdening herself to us about the difficulties of living with a husband who is jealous of her every affection – including that for their child, Joe, who suffers from cerebral palsy. A Day in the Life of Joe Egg is chock-a-block with disorientating moments such as these, when we become conscious of ourselves as an audience looking in on a family as they play out their lives before us.

In order to entertain themselves and their daughter, labelled a “wegetable” by the camp, hyperactive doctor at the Children’s Hospital in an uncomfortably hilarious moment, Sheila and Brian construct plays out of their own lives; Brian brilliantly taking on the roles of the numerous figures that Shelia came into contact with as she sought explanations for her child’s crippling illness. Brian, played by Sam Ward, is a teacher by profession: the play opens with a disconcerting exploitation of the audience as we take on the role of his unruly class. In amongst the genuine anger and lack of control the comic is never far away; Brian tells his wife that he no longer hates a particular child in his class, but “I just stare at him and wonder if he’s a creature of my own humanity”.  

And then we move into the domestic scene of the family home. The intimate yet fragile relationship between husband and wife is reproduced perfectly as lines of dialogue fly off one another, and Brian visibly slips into a child-like role of a sex-charged, nagging, unperceptive young man, just like those he left behind in the class room. Brian’s ever-present stream of lustful thoughts continue, even when the child, Joe, finally makes an entry. Lucy Delaney pulls off the difficult part in a way which is poignant, convincing and avoids sentimentality. Unable to speak, her parents form a three-way conversation around her, addressing each other as “mum” and “dad” as though they alternately take on the role of their daughter. Left alone with Joe as his wife changes upstairs, Brian’s monologue to his child drifts into self-involved fantasy about the noise coming from above – “That’s mummy upstairs… she’s probably undressing…. naked”.

Peter Nichols’ play is certainly a tough one to pull off, but this small cast have undoubtedly caught all the nuances of the sharp, beautifully crafted script: anticipate a highly engaging, emotional, and at times hilarious evening.

Cherwell’s verdict: “something quite special”

Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice is a notoriously difficult play to do well. But the Corpus Christi Owlets appear to capture the richness and complexity of it with startling ease. “I don’t want to sledgehammer the audience with high blown concepts”, says co-director Alex Rankine as the actors carry out their warm-up for their rehearsal, “I just want to put on Shakespeare”. 

The first thing that strikes me upon the actors beginning their opening scene, is just how human their interactions are. The acting is really quite remarkable – meaning that I am instantly involved in the story and feel immediate empathy with the characters. Particularly outstanding is the performance by James Golding, who plays the lead, Antonio. His distress in the opening scene is utterly believable and he communicates the lines in a way which is both easy to follow and totally engaging.

Co-directors Erika Pheby and Alexander Rankine are both keen to express the importance of developing characters in Shakespeare, and this is obvious as I continue to watch. Even having only seen excerpts from what promises to be a thought-provoking and enchanting performance, I can say with confidence that this emphasis has paid off. The characters are anything but static.

One of the most demanding roles in The Merchant of Venice is that of Shylock – whose character is essential to some of the underlying themes of the play: bitterness, anti-semitism and the cyclical nature of hatred. Tom White portrays this character as confused, irrational and impulsive – a Shylock I have rarely seen before – and in doing so has created a far more human persona.

Something that strikes me as the actors reach the end of their preview is just how authentic and traditional a performance this is going to be. As Rankine said, “they are not trying to do something totally new, they are letting the text speak for itself” – something which I feel will capture the hearts of an audience new to the play, and veterans alike. Having said this, tradition and modernity naturally converge as the shining white auditorium is intersected by a portion of the old city wall, creating a feeling of past and present meeting for the play.

Theatre is about creating a world that an audience can believe in, and the Owlets’ performance seems set to do just this. In the brief time that I spent absorbed in this tale of love, downfall and religious tension, I experienced something quite impressive – I do not doubt that in full period costume, and with time to develop the characters and themes, this performance will be something quite special.

“Why would anyone from the public ever dream of going to a homeless hostel or homeless training centre? You’d probably be a bit scared by it…Similarly why would a homeless person, who’s in quite a tricky place in life, go and see a show in a theatre or take part in a dance class? What’s unusual about this place is that those two things happen all the time without people even realising they’re happening,” said Jeremy Spafford, Artistic Director at the Old Fire Station.

You might not have realised that the majestic red-brick building on George Street, which advertises itself as a Fire Station and a Corn Exchange, is in fact home to the homelessness charity Crisis and to a public arts centre. Student shows don’t tend to inhabit the place, and even if Crisis ever were at freshers’ fair, you’ve probably spent the rest of your time here trying to blank out all memories of the traumatic day.

But you’re not alone. Spafford confessed that a lot of people are confused about what goes on inside this building, being unsure whether “it’s an arts centre with some strange homeless thing going on” or “it’s a homeless centre with some strange arts thing going on.”

This confluence, however, is what makes the OFS so special; “simply having
those people alongside each other is in itself a really significant thing… You’re saying the lines between those people are not as clear as we’d like to imagine,” as Spafford put it.

The idea is not to lure the public in to see shows out of a sense of charity. The arts centre is determined to stand on its own two legs. And it does so exhaustively. There’s a theatre, an art gallery, a cafe, a shop (which, contrary to standard practice in Oxford, is not a chainstore), a dance studio, studios for professional artists, studios for classes, and a flexible space known as the loft. “There aren’t any other venues [in the city centre] where you cross art forms so easily and where space is so flexible,” according to Spafford.

Their Tuesday nights are particularly unusual. One of the regular shows they host is a theatre scratch night, where local writer-performers bring along work in progress, on which the audience are immediately invited to give comment. The writers find it invaluably useful and “the audience are just really enjoying the fact that you’re allowed to say what you think directly to the artist and they don’t mind.”

“Short Stories Aloud” is another of the Tuesday night shows. The name gives the game away, though they get some not-inconsiderable names to perform; their next one will feature Julie Mayhew from Radio 4. Entry is by ticket, with a complimentary piece of cake, or by bringing along a cake.

The building itself has had a long history. Built as a fire station and a corn exchange in the 1890s, the internal structure has varied considerably. It was redesigned into its current gleaming state a couple of years ago; “when the architects came in, there were twenty seven different staircases of which none went to all of the floors.” The solution was to put a main staircase into the hose tower, known to the OFS’s inhabitants as the “hidden spire”, being “the dreaming spire of Oxford you can’t see from the outside. Back in the 1890s the hoses were leather and if you left them in a heap they would rot… So some poor boy would climb up the metal ladder, which you can still see, and hang the hoses so they could dry out,” Spafford explained.

The architects opened up the building, introducing a lot of natural light, while also leaving as much as possible intact. The result is a building that is intensely modern, but with a sense of its own history. They didn’t quite beat the staircases, though. You still need to use at least two to get to all of the five floors.

In sixth week, the Oxford University Film Foundation will be holding its annual festival. This year’s exciting programme of events includes a talk and Q&A session with screenwriter William Nicholson (Gladiator, Les Misérables), a music video showcase from emerging classical-meets-indie band Clean Bandit, and a 24-hour filmmaking challenge. I met up with OUFF President Tom Shennan to talk about the festival.

What can we expect from this year’s festival?
There’s something for everyone. There’ll be competitions, screenings and talks by people with all levels of experience. We’re showing student films, independent films, and there’s a Q&A with a director as well. Anyone can get involved, whether they’re at a basic level or have already done filmmaking before. First there’s the 24-hour film challenge, which is perfect for people who have never made a film before, as it’s just a bit of fun. Then we have a Cuppers competition, for slightly more experienced filmmakers who have made a film up to six minutes in length. Then finally we are also having a screening night for students who have made films between 15 and 30 minutes.

Most of the festival programme is made up of short films. Do you prefer them to feature-length pictures?
If you’re a student filmmaker you don’t have a big budget, or a lot of time, or a big team. Short films are the easiest way of showing what you can do, and experimenting with what you like. It’s probably best to make a five-minute documentary and find out you hate it, rather than a 20-minute one. Also, this year I’ve opened the competition up to music videos and play trailers, because they’re a big thing in Oxford. You have to make films where you can. There’s a big audience for theatre here, but not so much for films.

How are the films being judged this year?
Half of the OUFF committee is entering films themselves, so obviously we can’t judge it! Instead we’ve got Tim Barrow, who’s a Scottish actor/director/writer/producer to judge all the Cuppers films. African Outreach are sponsoring our 24-hour challenge, so they’ll be judging the entries and deciding on the brief. It could be a theme, or a line of dialogue to include, or a prop to use in the film. Finally, we’re holding a scriptwriting competition in participation with North Oxford Property Services, for which they’ll be awarding a £100 prize.

So how did you first get involved with filmmaking?
I started out making a few music videos on my handheld digital camera, no HD or lenses or anything. Then I entered a competition run by Polydor Records on Youtube. I got to the national final, which made me think I could actually make a career out of it. So I bought a proper DSLR camera. I’ve shot a few trailers since then, and I wrote and shot a 15-minute drama last term. It’s going to be shown at the longer film night, and also at the Ultimate Picture Palace later this term.I’m thinking of applying to the National Film and Television School postgraduate course next year.

What do you particularly enjoy about making a film?
When I’m actually shooting a film, there’s nothing I dislike. When I was doing my short film, from getting up at 6am to getting home late at night, I had fun the whole time. What I didn’t like was having to help my producer get all the props beforehand, which involved carrying filing cabinets around central Oxford! I used to like editing when I made my first films, but after having spent all of Christmas doing it, I will never edit again!

Who would be your dream speaker for the festival, and why?
Edgar Wright. He was friends with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost at university, and went on to direct Spaced, Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. Then he went to Hollywood to do Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World. It’s such a nice career arc. And I like that his directing style is instantly recognisable. I invited him to come, but unfortunately he couldn’t make it.

How do you think the Oxford filmmaking scene compares to other universities?
The culture of theatre, which I think is greater here than at other universities, has a big impact. Anyone who might be inclined to direct or act in films is taken into the theatre world. It’s a good thing in some respects, because the actors here are already brilliant and don’t need much direction! But I think we do suffer because we don’t have access to proper lighting rigs, or a green screen, like many universities do. One thing we do to combat this is by having Brookes students on the OUFF committee. They really know their stuff, and we’re always trying to negotiate deals to use their equipment.

What would be your advice to a novice filmmaker?
Just do it. Don’t worry about what could go wrong, because everything will. It can be fun to work within constraints. You have to be inventive to achieve the effect you want. You end up doing things like putting a tripod on a towel and pulling it across a table to get a tracking shot. Anyone can make a film nowadays: you can shoot HD on an iPhone. And if you’re a member of OUFF, you can come to all our workshops for free, and they’ll give you all the skills you need. Filmmaking’s just mucking about really.

Finally, what are you looking forward to the most about the festival?
I think most people would say William Nicholson. But I’m most looking forward to the awards night, where we get to see all the Cuppers entries. It’ll be really interesting to hear what Tim Barrow has to say about the films.

For the latest news about the OUFF 2013 festival, check out its facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/OUFF2013.
Tickets for non-members are £4 for one event, or £10 for the whole week. They can be purchased here:  www.wegottickets.com/OUFF2013.

★★★★☆

Four Stars

Flight is a truly universal film. It’s a film that deals with two problems that rip thousands of families apart every year: alcoholism, and the guilt that comes from crashing an airliner under the influence of Class A narcotics.

At the heart of the film is Denzel Washington as Captain Whip Whittaker, a pilot who takes more miniatures from the trolley than a hen party on the way to Magaluf. He then operates the plane, which, in a devastatingly tense opening act, crashes into a field. It sounds like a hard-hitting opening, except for the fact that, rather than being hung out to dry for being pissed, Denzel gets a gold star and is held up as a hero.

The film then becomes an exploration of rampant alcoholism and drug use, and though it can’t match the tone or sheer balls-in-hand terror of that opening (Robert Zemeckis’ finest live action moment in years, drawing on the slightly wimpier plane crash in Cast Away) the film does manage to be affecting, mainly because two-time Academy Award winner Denzel Washington is just so fucking good at acting. The fact that he manages to never slip into villainy, nor make us sympathise too much with his predicament, is testament to how well earned his reputation is. He’s going to lose to Daniel Day-Lewis at the Oscars next Sunday, but it’s reassuring to know that he still has the chops to carry a high-profile drama on his own.

It should be mentioned that there are some other actors involved. Kelly Reilly (who, in real life, is English and not an alcoholic) plays a love interest who meets Denzel in the hospital whilst he’s recovering from his little plane crash. She’s good, although the character never quite feels fleshed out enough and is a bit too inexplicably moralistic. Flight also has John Goodman and Don Cheadle, playing a drug dealer (a fat, middle-aged, white drug dealer?!) and a lawyer (a young, handsome black lawyer?!) respectively. The roles are not quite as fun or subversive as they could be, but Goodman in particular seems to be enjoying teaming up with Zemeckis – even if Cheadle seems to be enjoying his role about as much as an amateur colonoscopy.

The film, overall, is an extremely fun drama, which might seem a little pejorative but isn’t really. This isn’t half as heavy as Zero Dark Thirty, or a thousandth as weighty as Amour, but it’s also a lot more fun than watching waterboarding or an old woman slowly dying. Definitely worth watching, if only to remind yourself that you’ll never be half as awesome as Denzel Washington.

John Hughes is my hero. It’s basically his fault that I spend a lot of time wishing I’d been a teenager in the ’80s, at school with Judd Nelson and/or Ferris Bueller, rather than the rather lifeless noughties. And it seems that his ’80s hits are making a funny sort of comeback under the radar.

Hacked Off Films’s decision to screen Ferris Bueller for their immersive cinema experience in Oxford earlier this term, and its considerable success, is a great indicator of how relevant Hughes’ feel-good, close-range plotting is to our age group. Two recent Hollywood blockbusters have employed his work in a way which suggests his messaging is more relevant than the confusing knitwear combinations and gravity defying hairdos might initially appear. Yet these homages seem to fall a long way short of doing him justice, or even understanding what he achieved in his early work. 

Hughes’ brilliant mastery of the art of soundtrack is (rather horrifyingly) re-employed in last year’s act-trocity Pitch Perfect: lead boy introduces lead girl to The Breakfast Club and romance ensues, with the climax being her recognition of its (and thus by some logic also his) brilliance. The problem is that the Hughes classic, its soundtrack and its images are introduced with no noticeable connection, and the iconic final freezeframe of Judd Nelson’s fist-in-the-air triumph, with Simple Minds’ classic anthem ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’, is used and re-used to the point where even its meaning in the original becomes confused, let alone its significance in a film about a singing competition.

A marginally less appalling appropriation of Hughes is Easy-A, which is guilty of trying the recreate the Judd Nelson salute, this time in the context of an entirely predictably romantic ending which provides neither character with a moment of self-definition or personal triumph (the entire Brat Pack would roll in their video-cassette box.)

These films which so desperately seek to recreate Hughes’ memorability and emotional engagement seem to have missed Hughes’ central genius of characterisation, and this is what creates the black hole into which references to him fall. Their two-dimensionality (Pitch Perfect’s girl-with-divorced-parents-and-therefore-Commitment-Issues is genuinely toe curling) is a poor board on which to pin the genius of Hughes, and so what seems like a kooky and cinematic allusion becomes an unwise way of demonstrating how comparatively poor the film actually is within the genre.

That said, Olive herself delivers the following line, which might be timelessly relevant (particularly in such a week as this): “Just once, I want my life to be like an ’80s movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life.”