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Blog Page 1658
Review: Dark Shadows
There is a well – established formula in the world of cinema: Johnny Depp + Tim Burton + Helena Bonham Carter = movie magic. Given the latest product of this formula it may be time to call this into question. This offering from Burton and Co. was inspired by an American TV series from the late sixties. The film’s main character is Barnabus Collins (Johnny Depp), a vampire cursed by an obsessive witch (Eva Green) and locked in a box for 196 years. What ensues is Barnabus’ endeavour to rebuild the family empire with plenty of Jack Sparrow-esque, bemused comments about the modern world along the way.
How to describe ‘Dark Shadows’? Quirky? Amusing? Kooky? All of the above in fact, but its not without its flaws. The dialogue is slow and clunky in places and some of the plotlines are never fully fleshed out. Having said that, there is definitely a novelty factor to this film. The trademark twist of madness which seeps through Tim Burton’s work is once again present, but it’s quite different to the average fast-talking, high action, serious CGI fare we’ve been subjected to lately. Any film which unites lava lamps, 1760’s Liverpool, hippies and an Alice Cooper performance is sure to be one you won’t forget anytime soon. Eva Green puts in a stand-out performance showing diversity after ‘Casino Royale’ and as ever Bonham Carter comes up trumps as a bewigged, alcoholic psychiatrist. However, Depp on his eighth outing with Burton must take care not to limit his range. His run of turkeys of late suggests his star may be beginning to fade.
If eccentricity and dark romance is your thing, this is definitely one for you. It looks like Burton and pals have survived another adventure. The future of their previously winning formula, however, is unclear – lets hope that the coffins and gloom aren’t a sign of things to come.
3 Stars
No Minister – Playing it cool
Many of you reading this will no doubt have seen the photograph of David Cameron cheering, arms flailing wildly in the air, as he watched the Champions League final at the G8 meeting last week. This picture arrived in the wake of the PM’s recent announcement on Facebook that his favourite album is ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ by Pink Floyd. Along with his professed love of the Smiths and real ale we can only conclude one thing: that David Cameron has succumbed to a disease that has plagued too many recent politicians, the desire to try and be ‘cool’.
Not content with the position of cheerless bureaucrat/hate figure that has come to characterise our perception of most Prime Ministers, he has desperately chased the notion of appearing like a genuine human being. Blair, in the early years at least, was marginally successful, making guest appearances on Football Focus and greeting crowds auditioning for the X Factor. Brown by contrast, appeared about as cool or normal as an overweight sheep dressed in an ill-fitting green Christmas jumper and knee-high socks with ‘Cliff Richard’ written on them: a problem that his infamous claim of Arctic Monkeys fandom and subsequent failure to name any of their songs, did little to abate.
Apart from being both utterly cringe-worthy and embarrassing for all involved, these vain attempts at coming across like a ‘normal bloke’ bely a deeper problem with modern British politics. The persistence of the clumsy attempts by these PMs to cultivate an attractive personality is a natural consequence of the increasing Americanisation of the ‘top job’.
A focus on the Prime Minister as a figurehead, as an individual leader, has facilitated a watering down of our cabinet system that has acted to undermine our democracy. Thatcher’s bilateral meetings and then Blair’s infamous ‘sofa cabinet’ style, were both a clear rejection of collective cabinet decision making. In both cases the dictatorial control over the executive that each leader possessed was sufficiently abrasive to fuel wide rebellion from within their own party and in the case of Thatcher, it provided to be her downfall.
The cult of personality that a leader can attract, is a necessary condition of their tight control of their cabinet. It is the perception that the leader of a party has a status or mandate from the public, separate from that of the government as a whole, that creates a feeling amongst the party that their leader’s whim is to be respected. It was Blair’s popularity with the public that allowed him to so easily control the far left of his party in the early parts of his leadership, it was Thatcher’s that allowed her to stave off almost constant dissatisfaction within the higher echelons of her party for so long. It is unsurprising then that Cameron’s recent coolness drive has come at a time when the Conservatives are having to delay their policy plans to appease their backbenchers.
But power in Britain is remarkably centralised as tough whipping systems make parliament putty in the hands of the government. A greater centralisation within the executive itself is clearly something best avoided if we do not want to undermine our already precarious democracy. Part of this is avoiding the focus on PM personality that has become so commonplace. A day when the Prime Minister sits at the G8, thoughtfully contemplating the issues, feeling no need to let us all know what bands he’s into or what hip, obscure beer he likes: that will be a good day for British democracy.
Review: Donkeys’ Years
With a cast of ‘playhouse’ actors and a host of debutantes, the outcome of Donkeys’ Years was never certain. Previous St Benet’s Garden Plays have brought reviews of delightful amateurism and elongated vowels. And much continued along this seam. For where else could the bastion of old college boy behaviour be more appropriate than in situ at one of the last institutions of all male academia.
Frayn’s farce was a perfect medium for this kind of production. The cast’s own direction kept a dynamism and fluidity between the characters and one cannot help to feel the energy they gained from each other. The relationship between Quine and Rev. Sainsbury was playful but not lacking sincerity. Alex Hatvany slipped into his role naturally and Ulmann’s performance was eye opening in its conviction despite this being his Oxford debut.
Overall, the play was light-heartedly humorous. Iona McLaren played Lady Driver well, stringing out masterfully the series of awkward encounters with the advancing men, even with her sighs of exhaustion falsely hidden behind the trellis as she turned her bicycle and with a few impromptu comments.
A worry of the play was that the extended sections of inebriation could lead to simplistic and tiresome humour, but thankfully Leigh-Pemberton, booming and with far-reaching eyes, kept the audience guessing for more and the contrast to the awkward Snell (Tom Turner) was a fantastic dynamic.
Turner too was stellar throughout the performance. Dr Taylor was played well by Pietro Rocco, though his youth was hard to see relative to the others, hard given the puerile actions of all the men on stage. Aitken came into his own in the second half of the play, as one would expect from a media hound in that situation, and Draper likewise played both the panicking quasi-lover and embarrassed politician with ease.
A few inside-jokes were left unexplained to the general public, but given the intimate setting of the play, most present knew the cast and enjoyed all of the humour. Concerning script manipulation more could have been made of Quine’s sleaze and Taylor’s position in college but credit must be given to the use of Birkett (and Oliver Jones himself) whose role as host, both to the audience and as a porter was crucial.
Given the lack of stage lighting, costume and scenery, much rested on the actors and for that matter – the weather. Fortunately it was jolly good.
FOUR AND A HALF STARS
Suicide on the rail tracks
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Dream of the machines
‘They are young, tech-savvy and determined to fight for democracy in Russia,’ wrote Tony Halpin of The Times, the day after protests erupted in the wake of Russia’s contested 2011 December elections, ‘The protestors…represent a new generation of activist, using the internet and social media to outwit the Kremlin.’ For those who have followed the roller-coaster ride of global uprisings and protest movements since history was supposed to end in 1989, these words sound familiar. Does anyone remember what the journalist-cum-tech-savvy-blogger Malcolm Gladwell said about Iran’s so-called ‘Twitter Revolution’ of 2009? ‘The Revolution will be Tweeted!’ he jubilantly announced, and all across the western world fellow observers enthusiastically tweeted agreement.
The revolutionary democratic power of the internet is the trump-card of ‘cyber-utopian’ visionaries. Its organising and mobilising potential, its ability to broadcast suppressed information, as well as give international publicity to even the most obscure protest movements, is what the internet offers us, and the evidence is everywhere. As one Egyptian activist tweeted during the recent uprisings of Tahrir Square, ‘We use Facebook to schedule the protests, Twitter to coordinate, and YouTube to tell the world!’
But the internet’s power to improve our world could go further. The logical conclusion of some cyber-utopian thinking reaches the realms of the metaphysical. For example, the trans-humanism of computer scientists like Ray Kurzweil, the idea that soon we could transcend the very essence of humanity and physical existence through the power of the internet. Or less Star Wars, more cyberArcadia: the internet as a means to overhaul the old hierarchical power-structures and replace them with harmonious, self-organising networks existing online. It is the first strand in the broad church of ‘cyber-utopianism’ which has become entrenched in the mindset of elites in the West.
Led by the US, Western leaders have embarked on a crusade for internet freedom, as declared by Hilary Clinton in 2010, ‘an open internet will lead to stronger, more prosperous countries’. The link between a free internet online and a liberal democracy on the ground is considered absolutely self-evident. This is the ‘Age of Information’, and those perennial thorns in the Western side – the undemocratic totalitarians and the ageing dictators and autocrats – will inevitably be swept aside by the forces of technological determinism. Free-flowing information can certainly facilitate revolution. Yet it does not mean that a linear path towards liberal democracy is necessarily the inevitable consequence.
As many commentators have pointed out, the Arab Spring bears much resemblance to the half-realised revolutions which erupted across Europe in 1848: born in the context of new technological developments and a sudden wave of unprecedented global interconnectivity, these 19th century uprisings broke out amidst an atmosphere of heady hope and expectation. Within a year, however, things had turned sour: the very technology which had helped make revolution possible – the new railway networks – was swiftly turned on the people as the newly-appointed Emperor of the French, Napoleon III, used them to rapidly deposit armed forces in the capital in order to restore order and complete the counter-revolution.
Today, the internet too has been used by the forces of order for their own self-preservation: the Iranian government, for example, has used the internet to spread its own propaganda, hone its surveillance techniques and suppress free speech. Technological utopianism appears much less credible once the new technology becomes yet another tool available to strengthen the grip of a modern totalitarian regime. One of the fiercest critics of the impact of social media on politics is Andrew Keen, author of up-coming ‘Digital Vertigo’. The most interesting problem for Keen is the impact networks like Twitter and Facebook are having on the development of coherent political organisation.
He cites the example of the Occupy Wall Street movement, and points out that, rather than conferring unambiguous benefits on the movement, the centrality of social media has resulted in ‘an incredibly individualised and fragmented movement, where everyone is online using social media and everyone is using it to articulate their own ideas and tell their own stories’. According to Keen, Occupy failed because it rejected any kind of ideological commitment, and instead, totally overwhelmed by its online presence, drowned in ‘a cacophony of individualised voices’. Could the Civil Rights Movement, for example, or Women’s Suffrage, have been achieved if the key individuals had led their followers online rather than on the ground?
For US foreign policy expert Golnaz Esfandiari, the danger of Facebook and Twitter is that they ‘limit people to a virtual world’ and make people lazy. ‘You just sit on your computer; you click on a few pages… support this, support that…free this activist, save this prisoner’. In Egypt and Tunisia, however, this was far from the case: ‘these are not Facebook Revolutions or Twitter Revolutions; these are people’s revolutions, led by people brave enough to take to the streets’.
The ultimate danger of today’s pervasive ‘cyber-utopianism’ is that we, in our modern age of political disillusionment, attempt to by-pass traditional methods of political protest and organisation. Seduced by the utopian promises of the cyber-world, we may slip into the comfortable complacency of the virtual alternative. As documentary-maker Adam Curtis has said, ‘Democracy needs proper politics…it’s as if these people assembled spontaneously on Twitter and they just want freedom. But what kind of society do they want?’
Preview: The Deep Blue Sea
A botched suicide, a love triangle, a single room, a single day: the makings of a great play. Wikipedia tells me that The Deep Blue Sea was praised for its deeper and more complex view of life (citation needed) but it does seem, in comparison to the other Rattigan play that Oxford has seen this term (After the Dance) that there is less humour and less decadence. Instead, it is more of a “Vim under the sink, two bars on the fire” sort of scene, full of empty lives and 1950s drudge.
Hester, previously married to high-court judge William, is now in love with Freddie who drinks too much and used to be a pilot (cause and effect). Feeling rejected by Freddie, she tries to kill herself and fails. On stage there is a gas fire, a sofa, a drinks cabinet – nothing too lavish, because this play is about the script and it is about the characters written into the script. When Freddie, played by Alex Stutt, strides on stage much about his character is clear. He is energetic, his body movements and facial features are slightly exaggerated and he fits the role of an enthusiastic RAF pilot very well. This is matched by the way he speaks – quickly and with a buzz of boyishness. He is meant to have been drinking throughout the play so that, in the middle, his confrontation with Hester is fierce and full of emotion; quite rightly, I think, he plays down the drunken aspect to focus on this emotion, so there is no slurred speech or staggering around the stage and, as a result, there is less opportunity for bad acting.
Sophie Ablett as Hester is quieter in comparison. But I cannot quite work out her character. At the beginning of the play she does not quite convince me that what is going on inside is the turmoil of a suicidal mind. She is devoted to Freddie but it is in her scenes with William (Jack Light) that she is more sincere. The interaction between Light and Ablett is great, it is natural and it is actually, despite the uncomfortable subject matter (her suicide attempt, her fragile state of mind), more comfortable. Light is quiet, calm, caring – his soft voice and excellent posture counteract Ablett’s skittishness and frailty very well.
So many plays rely on the characters getting drunk – probably to provide a change in tone and to alter the personalities of the characters. Actors deal with this in a variety of ways, from the sublime to the ridiculous. This lies somewhere in between. It is understated which, for a small BT audience, is a good thing. If Hester can squeeze out a little more emotion then this production is going to be excellent. A bit of spit, a bit of polish and the play will be what it needs to be: a reflection on love, on the way we express it and how we, all of us, need it.
FOUR STARS
Preview: Proof
Mathematics is a tricky subject. This is especially true of the theatre: there just aren’t that many good plays about the art of numbers, or algebra, or geometry, or, for that matter, proofs. David Auburn’s Pulitzer winning piece breaks that record though; my every impression was of a superb and moving play, every inch of it brought to life by a near flawless cast and production team.
Much of the play’s strength is down to its small cast; Jared Fortune is superb as Robert, the mathematics professor who descends into lunacy – unusually for a student production, the age of the character is played fantastically well. Fortune comes across as very much the firm but caring father, a characterisation that that becomes increasingly emotional as we see him lose his grip on reality. Millie Chapman, as Robert’s daughter Catherine, is equally accomplished. The play opens after her father’s death, and watching her haunted by visions of her father, following him towards madness, desperately trying to reconstruct his work.
Set on the back porch of a house near the University of Chicago, this is a play very much tied to its place – the script drips with Americanisms, and the cast have each perfected (to my ear at least) an Illinois accent, which goes a long way towards the immersive experience on off. The set is just as impressive as the actors; the fully reconstructed back wall of a suburban house, the wooden porch and the unkempt garden make for a stunning sense of place: you can genuinely watch this play and forget where you are.
Don’t let the mathematical theme of the play put you off going; though there is the obligatory joke about the ‘imaginary number’ the band plays, the debates over mathematics are only the backdrop to a simply incredible play about trust, love and dealing with loss, brilliantly realised by a stellar cast. A must see.
Angels and Consolations
It’s not often that you’re given the chance to conduct and direct the first public performance of a contemporary opera. So when the possibility of staging Jonathan Dove’s Seven Angels appeared, I jumped at the chance.
However, this isn’t opera as you might typically imagine. With a tiny cast of two singers (with harp accompaniment) and merely 30 minutes in length, this is an intense and intimate experience. Tracing the parallels between the lives of the Renaissance painter Piero della Francesca and Jesus Christ, the opera is divided into seven short scenes (most of which reference a particular painting by Piero of key events in Christ’s life). The scenes are comprised of a dialogue between Piero and an Angel figure (who takes an ambiguous role, encompassing the roles of muse and the Madonna). The Univ Chapel has proved a brilliant space in which to stage the opera, with the tableau ideas springing to life in this religious setting.
It is being paired with and preceded by Judith Weir’s The Consolations of Scholarship. If Seven Angels seems against the grain, then the Weir will definitely come as a shock! Although similarly concise in length, it’s entirely different in scope. Set in 13th century China, the performance includes supernatural dogs, hanging jackets, games of chess and Chinese goddesses. The multiple characters involved in the plot are all played by just one soprano, creating an entertaining (and impressive) theatrical experience
So, if you’re looking to try something different, head to the Univ Chapel. You definitely won’t regret it.