If you’ve been to the theatre at any point in the last twenty years, chances are you’ve heard of John Godber. His characteristically biting, bittersweet plays have enjoyed enduring popularity among professionals and amateurs alike. His older plays are perhaps the most popular, and provide staple material for school and university drama, as exemplified by his prevalance on the Oxonian scene.

Godber is renowned for two things in particular. Firstly, in 1993 he was cited by the Plays and Players Yearbook as the ‘third most performed playwright in the UK, behind Shakespeare and Ayckbourn.’ Secondly, in his plays he demonstrates an ability to tap into something, to empathize with people regardless of their socio-economic background, drawing them into the theatre, a medium of entertainment they may never have previously considered. As well as writing, Godber directs: during our interview he was on a lunch break from rehearsal for Weekend Breaks, touring early this year across the country. Though he is most famous for his early plays, he has also penned adaptations of Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange and Bram Stoker’s Dracula, as well as an extensive filmography, ranging from episodes of Grange Hill in the late 1970s to filmed versions of his own plays.

When asked what first stirred his extensive interest in theatre, his answer is characteristically down to earth and comedic, making me feel slightly better about opening with a rather hackneyed line. ‘When I was about eight’, he tells me, in a strong Yorkshire accent, ‘I fell in love with a group of girls dancing. Great big teenagers.’ He describes how drama was compulsory at his school, believing that this ought to be enforced across the country, as it is ‘essential to creating three dimensional human beings’. Before he became a critically acclaimed playwright of the people, Godber was a teacher, which affected the way he wrote enormously. ‘I taught for five years in a rough comprehensive – I had to keep the kids’ attention. I had to design the lessons around them. Chekhov wouldn’t have worked.’ The titles of Godber’s most famous plays illustrate this in their brevity and simplicity: Bouncers, Teechers, Shakers. ‘I deliberately wrote short scenes, used short titles to make everything accessible,’ he adds. This ethos is once again reflected when I ask him about the popularity of his plays. ‘I’m just trying to reach as wide an audience as possible,’ he says. ‘Those plays were designed to draw in an audience from a very working class city. The titles are transparent. I wanted to bring people who didn’t have a degree in English into the theatre.’

Godber frequently discusses class as a factor in his writing style. When I question whether class barriers still exist in the 21st century, his tone becomes solemn. ‘Yes.  More so now than ever.  We have become much, much more class divided. And it isn’t just about culture; it’s about finance and opportunity. It’s worse now than it was in the seventies.’ It is through theatre that Godber seeks to tackle these issues. ‘Theatre chose me,’ he states, when asked why he sought to do so via the stage. ‘Theatre can break boundaries in different ways. It can get people into acting, into literature. At the beginning of my career, theatre was aimed solely at middle class audiences, graduate audiences. I wanted to break that mould. I wanted to bring theatre to people who thought it wasn’t for them.’

Given that Godber seeks to reach an audience that would not immediately be associated with an institution such as Oxford, perennially accused of elitism, it is perhaps surprising that the student community has displayed such a fondness for his plays, with a successful run of Bouncers in Michaelmas and Teechers this term. When asked about this, he is frank. ‘People put on your work for various reasons. Just because something has mass appeal, it doesn’t mean it isn’t particularly good. It’s the Spielberg effect. No-one took him seriously as a film maker until he made Schindler’s List, they just thought he made trashy movies. If people want to put Teechers or Bouncers on, or even some of my more autobiographical stuff, if a group of students want to put on a play then obviously it says something to them. If it didn’t, they wouldn’t put it on in the first place.  I have no jurisdiction over that.’

Interestingly, it is Godber’s earlier work which is proving to be the most popular, within the Oxford drama scene at least, though this does appear to reflect a general trend. His newer, autobiographical work, the plays he claims he is ‘most proud of,’ despite receiving critical acclaim, are still to reach the popularity levels of plays like Up ‘n’ Under. I ask him whether he finds this frustrating. ‘Yes, of course,’ is his reply. ‘The play I’m working on at the moment is not as well known as some of my others. Yet. Bouncers, Teechers, Up ‘n’ Under, I wrote those plays for a theatre company, a theatre company I no longer work with, to keep that company alive. My particular penchant for German expressionism wasn’t going to do that. If I’d put that on in Hull in 1984, I would have closed the theatre. Even now, Brecht doesn’t do well in England. It’s about getting the balance right, between what you want to do, and what is safe to do. And since I left Hull Truck Theatre Company, I’ve become much more focused on what I want to do as an artist, rather than what I need to do to make a company work.’

We move on to discuss his work as a director. A prevailing criticism of writers who direct their own plays is that they are not suitably divorced from the text, and have problems with flexibility of vision given that their instrumental part in the play’s conception. Godber states he does not have this problem, as he is ‘naturally drawn to directing my own shows. I feel very comfortable directing my own work.’ He uses a core group of actors, and when asked whether he is influenced by them, he answers ‘Definitely. I mean, they’re essentially an unofficial ensemble, people I work with all the time. I ask them if they want to do a show. We’ll go have a coffee and sort it out. I know who I’m writing for, and I’m always looking to push the limits of their performances. There’s a real security in writing for them.’

Godber’s plays are fast, funny and forever accessible. He succeeds in retaining humour while dispensing lessons in equality. It is this attribute that ensures the enduring appeal and popularity of his plays, and one cannot help be impressed by his unashamed frankness and commitment to the breakdown of social barriers that have sadly become firmly established within the theatrical world. Anyone with a vague passion for theatre would surely agree that in order for its survival sustained relevance is crucial. Availability and accessibility are therefore incredibly important. Godber has recognized this, and as a result his plays exhibit equilibrium: he balances creativity with commercial popularity, while easy, affable humour is not forsaken in an ongoing critique of social injustice in modern British society.

Broken Hearts Club

24th February, Baby Love

Join the iconic clubnight as it celebrates its sixteenth birthday  in style. Attractions will include sweets, songs and maybe a smoke machine.

Tickets £3 before 11pm, doors 10pm.

Grow Anthology launch

25th February, Oxford Hub

Oxford Students’ Oxfam group launches their new poetry anthology, GROW, with a theme of food sustainability. Featuring Caroline Williams, cake and caesuras.

Free entry, 8pm-9.30pm

Little Dragon

26th February, O2 Academy

The biggest new electro band on the block come to Oxford, supported by R&B act Holy Other. 

Tickets £13.50, doors 7pm

Upstairs Downstairs

26th February, BBC1

If you’re suffering from Downton withdrawal, then top up your Toff levels with the second series of the BBC reboot. In this second episode, Lady Agnes distracts from bad news by throwing a dinner party.

9pm, on iPlayer soon after

Return of the Uke

26th February, Holywell Music room

Oxford Uni alumni and Ukulele virtuoso Andy Eastwood makes his first return to his old stamping grounds for a concert based around that much maligned instrument. Worth a l-uke.

Tickets £12.50/£10.50, doors 8pm

Rory & Tim Are Three

26th February, The Wheatsheaf

Following their sell-out BT show, Rory & Tim return to the Wheatsheaf for their last ever Oxford show with an hour of brand new material. Results may vary.

Tickets £3, doors 7.30pm

OUDS open mic night

26th February, The Cellar

Go with OUDS to celebrate the end of Hilary, the New writing festival and life. Featuring spoken word artists, stand-up comedians, bands, singers and a DJ, all performers from Oxford and beyond are welcome. If you just want to watch, then sit back, have a drink, and enjoy the best talent the city has to offer

Tickets £3 before 11, £5 after, doors 9pm

New Writing Festival

28th February – 3rd March, BT studio

OUDS presents a collection of new writing from the Oxford drama scene, including Antarctica, written by Robert Williams and The Tulip Tree by Oliver Mitchell. 

Visit oxfordplayhouse.com/btsstudent for details

The Boy with Tape on his Face

1st March, Oxford Glee club

Fresh from his critically-acclaimed Edinburgh run, the Kiwi Chaplin brings his unique, whimsical and hilarious take on mime to Oxford Glee club. Prepare to be speechless.

See http://www.glee.co.uk/oxford-comedy for details

1. Why the 80s?

Synths are everywhere you look. The colours are bright, the prints all clash, the politicians are hated and nobody has any money. Sounding familiar? Well, probably not, as few of us were alive for any substantial part of the decade that began with the death of  Lennon and ended with fall of the Berlin Wall. News reports have abounded which compare the current recession with the recession under Thatcher in the 80s, and the Tory government’s decision to make enormous cuts are reminiscent of Thatcher (Milk Snatcher)’s controversial economic policies. Even the riots of last year  seem to imply that the classic UK problems with class are as strong now as they were in the 80s.

Based on this evidence, one could be forgiven for believing that the years  between 1980 and 1989  were a time of unremitting misery, Maggie, and Metallica, but extensive historical research by our team has revealed that there was in fact much in these years worth salvaging – namely big  hair,  MTV, hip hop, a disregard for the flattering aspects of fashion, a national love affair with a princess, and retro computers (let’s face it, who can afford an iPad at the moment?). The economics and politics seem to be evoking the ghost of the 80s, so, like any culture section worth its salt we have taken it upon ourselves to conjure a revival out of thin air. The Pinter revival, the prevelance of electronic music and the recent film about Thatcher’s younger years are our inspiration, but we feel there’s still more to be done to bring back the true spirit of the 80s. It would be a shame to be broke without the bright colours, or deal with cuts without croptops. So follow us in digging out  your scrunchies and getting down like a yuppie (knowing what that is is not a prerequisite) in order to brighten what is already a somewhat doomladen 2012.  

After all, the 80s saw the invention of the internet, synthetic skin and video games. They were clearly onto something.

Barbara Speed

2. Synthly the best

Here’s a confession that’ll shock anyone who knows me personally: I used to really, really hate almost every single song from the 1980s. (I used to listen to a lot of Pink Floyd and Yes, so I thought the seventies were The Golden Age Of Music. Blame my dad’s record collection). Well, I’m now (slightly) older and (slightly) wiser, and as a result I’ve come to see the (slightly) bigger picture. Here’s the thing: most pop music is crap. So it shouldn’t be a total surprise that lots of pop music from the 80s is crap. But I’d like to put it out there that the best music from that much-maligned decade is better than the best music of, say, the last ten years.

 Here’s an example: last week I saw a roomful of people going nuts to the Grace Jones version of ‘Love is the Drug’ from 1986. Is ‘Party Rock Anthem’ by LMFAO still going to be a floor-filler in 2040? I’d hazard a guess that the answer is ‘no’ – and if I’m wrong, God help us all. Quite apart from all the incredible and influential alternative music that the 1980s managed to produce in between episodes of Dynasty (Cocteau Twins, Pixies, Swans…), their pop is better than our pop. And in 30 years that skittery dubstep-lite rhythm that’s all over 95 percent of top ten songs today will sound even more dated than the whole Stock Aitken Waterman synths-and-drum-machines thing. Trust me on this one.

James Manning

The 80s was, undeniably, a decade of change. Music was no exception and the dynamic social climate led to some of the most respected and popular artists of all time. And Rick Astley. Legendary performers Michael Jackson and Madonna found their feet in the 80s, along with Prince and other purveyors of what was dubbed ‘contemporary R&B’. The decade also saw Bruce Springsteen release some of the greatest rock music of the modern age, with the seminal Born in the USA. But without sounding pretentious, the real value of the era lies away from the mainstream. Bands like the Pixies laid the groundwork for the grunge boom of the 90s and punk was taken to new places by Hüsker Dü and The Replacements.

Crucially, the 80s saw the emergence of two genres that would change music forever; hip-hop and electronica, as technological advances gave musicians hitherto unthinkable methods of production. Today, elements of these two genres are ubiquitous in popular music, with electro-influenced pop and (admittedly poor) hip-hop dominating the charts of recent years. While the defining images of the 80s may be of big hair, trashiness and cultural excess, it was unmistakeably then that the foundations of our music scene were laid.  Maybe the direct relevance of the 80s has waned, but their influence lives on in the acts which delight our ears today.

Adam Piascik

3. Speaking of Spielberg

The films of the 80s have always been among my favourites. Back to the Future, Ghostbusters, the later two Star Wars films, the inimitable Airplane, An American Werewolf in London, Die Hard, The Princess Bride, Stand by Me, Who Framed Roger Rabbit – I mean, what a decade! For my money, it was one of the most exciting periods of filmmaking, and also a period of innovation, particularly in special effects. Tron was released in 1982, with groundbreaking CGI visuals that paved the way for the digital mayhem that dominates the multiplexes today (for better or worse).

And, of course, there’s Spielberg. The (original) fantastic Indiana Jones films came out in the 80s and revolutionized action storytelling, while E.T. overcame the odds to become one of the highest-grossing films of all time. This was probably Spielberg’s golden age but unfortunately his 80s style doesn’t work so well in the present day. The Indiana Jones fourquel, while fun, didn’t really carry the spirit of the originals, and Tintin was full of exciting Jonesian action but little of its heart. By contrast, the sobfest War Horse was positively mawkish in a way that E.T. never was.

Spielberg is just an example, but he’s indicative of a wider malaise as 80s directors fail to live up to their earlier success. And yet, weirdly, a revival of 80s filmmaking doesn’t seem to need the 80s filmmakers. This decade has been the darling of indie filmmakers for some time (see The Squid and the Whale, Adventureland), but now the blockbusters are getting in on the act. Tron’s basic CGI got an update last year in the long-awaited sequel Tron: Legacy, and Spielberg himself was homaged in J.J. Abrams’ original and heartwarming Super 8. The kids who watched films in the 80s are growing up and trying to make films that they would have watched as a kid: original, non-cynical and exciting films, with a heart that later films have lacked. 

I don’t hold high hopes for an 80s revival – these homages to that decade are few and far between and are not even  universally well-received.  Still, in an age of franchises and brainless action they are a welcome relief, and a reminder of a past age where films really meant something to people.

Huw Fullerton

4. The Fall of man

Everyone loves the 80s That, I believe, is the rationale behind my superior’s decision that Cherwell ought to forgo a spread on the Olympics, or something much more relevant, in favor of covering the ‘80s revival’ we are currently undergoing, and have been, for the last ten, twenty years. 

As stage editor, I really ought to be writing an article on Stoppard or Ives. But I have chosen to neglect these worthy genii, and turn my attention instead to the much less palatable Mark E. Smith, the only constant member of The Fall, a band often categorized as post-punk, though I’d personally opt for post-modern punk; pretentious perhaps, but then, the man has more in common with Beckett than Morrissey. 

Upon announcing my intention to senior editorial to devote an article to The Fall, I was understandably met with quizzical looks and queries about Genesis Chapter 3. After clarifying, I was informed that dedicating a whole article to one band (or rather, one man) was deeply stupid. In my attempt to placate, I assured them that all would become clear; for The Fall, you see, are emblematic of the 80s, and er, I’ll put something about theatre in as well. Unfortunately, as any Fall fan will tell you (check The Guardian blogs), this band are about as far from yuppie culture and new romanticism as one can get. 

Smith earned his cult following by trashing both, à la Copeland or Mamet. He soundly avoided anything that could have come close to commercial success in the age that gave us MTV, but remained the favorite of one John Peel. The Fall (despite the claims of aforementioned Guardian blogs) are not the best band in the world. They are not  even the best band of the 80s – their musical ethos is neatly summed up by ‘if you’re going to play it out of tune, then play it out of tune properly’. Yet they are superbly listenable, combining arid wit with social observations and sheer nonsense. 

The 80s will forever be associated with consumer driven counterculture, but it also spawned several subversive foils, and it is these that The Fall, with their wonderful weirdness and disdain for all things trendy, epitomize. Look them up. 

And if anyone mentions 80s revival, remember , as Smith himself said: ‘Ours is to not look back, ours is to continue the crack’.

Charlotte Lennon

Though everyone but Haruki Murakami seem to be avoiding the decade as a setting for their novels, this year has a lot of anniversaries and reappearances from our favourite 80s writers.

Last week, 24 years after Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses was published and 23 after the fatwa against Rushdie was issued, four writers read passages from the novel at the Jaipur Literary festival in a show of solidarity with the novel. Rushdie did not attend himself, having been warned of the possible presence of several hired assassins.

Umberto Eco, the popular 80s author, recently published The Prague Cemetery, which seems to have disappointed everyone who read it and expected something as daring as the earlier novel. Don DeLillo, whose award-winning White Noise came out in 1985, has recently published his first collection of short stories, the fantastically named Angel Esmeralda. And Jeannette Winterson, whose 1985 semi-autobiographical novel Oranges are not the only Fruit was published to popular acclaim, has written a memoir, Why be happy when you could be normal? This year is also the 30th birthday of everyone’s favourite British teenager and diarist, Adrian Mole. Surely there can be no better pleasure in 2012 than reliving Adrian’s 13 ¾ year-old miseries as he wriggles in constant anguish and embarrassment, pining for the love of his life, Pandora.

Christy Edwall

7. Sweeney’s still cutting it

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street by Stephen Sondeheim has not really had a revival: it’s never been off the stage in the first place. Having premiered in London 1980, it’s travelled to Broadway and back several times (including a production which had no orchestra but where all of the characters simply played the instruments on stage), been made into a film with everyone’s favourite psychco, Jonny Depp, and most notably been performed last year by my own secondary school in Portsmouth. Luckily, for all of those who missed out on this appalling production, a thoroughly good one transfers to the West End in April, starring Michael Ball, fresh from donning a frock and ginger wig as Edna Turnblad in Hairspray (not an obvious choice for a homicidal maniac) and Imelda Staunton as his pie making accomplice. From asylum loonies to a self-flagellating judge (they didn’t show that bit in the film) this play literally has it all and has quite rightly received rave five star reviews (that is, apart from the Daily Torygraph, who think Ball looks something like David Brent from The Office). Anyway, enough of my rambling. If life gets you down, go see it.

Daniel Frampton

There are plays and then there are plays. Mephisto, the story of a radical cabaret troupe’s struggle for survivial in Nazi Germany, is most definitely the latter.

What strikes me first and foremost about this brilliant production of Mephisto is the attention to detail, construction and effective and imaginative use of the set. It’s superb, and some of the best I have seen, not just in student drama, but in the professional theatre too. It is especially wonderful when we as an audience are able watch performances at the club from behind, as if we were back stage. I don’t know much about lighting, and as a result I dont often comment on it, but even I could appreciate the beautiful brownish tinges to much of the lighting, which bathes the stage in an almost sepia tone. The music is equally as evocative, if not quite as brassy and ‘cabaret’ as I expected. There really is nothing quite like a live band, and the wide range of instruments played as part of the performance add a whole new dimension to it’s intrigue and poignancy, especially for me in the tender dance between Nicoletta and Erika in the first half.

The acting is also very good, though the intensity and dedication to character I feel can still be upped further throughout the run. I was particularly impressed by passion displayed by Richard Hill as Theophile Sarder as well as the impressive comedic talent and inventive energy of those members of the cast starring in the slices of political satire–Joseph Allan, Phillipa Baines, Zoe Bullock, Tim Gibson and Sarah Perry–dotted about the script. A word must also go to Milja Fenger’s direction, which is clean, sophisticated and inspired. I especially appreciate the lack of pretentious pause at the end of dramatic scenes, making the final moments of stillness in the play even more powerful.

I also applaud Milja for taking on a relatively unknown play and bringing it to the biggest venue in Oxford. It’s risky, but discovering new plays is what makes theatre most exciting. Yet it is here, with the play itself, rather than the production, that I am disappointed. The fact that I can sum up the plot line in a sentence at the beginning of this review, I think says it all. It’s the story of persecution in Nazi Germany, torn loyalties, and ultimate travesty, but its one that we have heard and seen framed in this way so many times before. I don’t deny that the period is one of immense importance and that its human cost can never be forgotten. But much has been said already, and to stand out Mephsito needed something to make us as an audience ‘sit up’. No matter how high the production values of this piece are, Mephisto doesn’t have this, and I leave the theatre moved and very much entertained, but ultimately unchanged.

4 stars