In everyday language, normal is synonymous with average. Never has this been truer than for the third film of the Paranormal Activity series. The first film was groundbreaking in the horror genre, opting for suspense and jump-out-of-your-seat moments, instead of the standard gore/shock films that have become so prominent lately. The only thing groundbreaking about this most recent addition, however, was the earthquake scene. The film starts out promisingly, with small noises or movements intertwined with what seemed like hours of camera footage, but then, in an attempt to ‘up the ante’, the scares towards the end become bigger and much less subtle, moving from the ethereal to the physical. It’s this marked change that means the film falls into the same familiar pitfall as other sequels (or prequels, in this case). The end result is a film suited for a slightly different demographic than the original intended.

But you know how it is; three times the film, three times the money. Let’s just hope they stop here and manage to retain some integrity. (Think of the Saw series; when the sequel number is larger than the amount of characters in the title, something is surely afoot). Perhaps I’m being a little harsh on the film; there’s no denying it was enjoyable and terrifying at the same time (if that’s even possible). It’s just they were in a lose-lose scenario. Shake things up a bit and risk losing your die-hard fans, or stick with the traditional format, and become boring to the masses.

The trouble with making a prequel (especially within a genre that depends on the unknown), is that we know exactly where/how the film is going to end. This is especially true if you were actually paying attention in the first two films, and not just cowering behind a cushion. Still, if you do decide to go and see this film, bear in mind that you will inevitably have to put up with those ‘too-cool-to-be-scared’ jocks, who will most likely spend their time making daft comments and laughing. If there is no one in your screening who fits this description, that’s because it’s you! 

2.5 STARS

It’s that time of year again when you can’t move for lists of the top ten horror films, characters, villains or inanimate objects. And as that’s a cliché, here’s a few more to make you cringe:

 1.   Sequels

What is it about horror films that makes them so easy to continue on forever (or until the reboot, at least)? Particularly as usually at the end of the film there’s only one or two characters still living, so the sequel is less of a continuation of the original and more of a lazy way not to have to think up a new title.

 2.   Lights going off

You know what it’s like. Whenever you need to investigate the creepy noise or empty building, either there’s a very coincidental power cut or those temperamental light bulbs blow out.

 3.   Point of view shots

Yes, I know that we need to sympathise with the main character, really feel their terror, but there’s something tedious (if not secretly a little enjoyable) about getting the same POV shot every time someone enters a new, and undoubtably dangerous, room. It’s like being trapped inside an idiot’s head, because the audience knows that venturing through that suspicious door is a bad idea, but somehow the hero doesn’t.

 4.  Having no sense of self preservation

That dark, spooky building where the murderer probably is must be a great place to visit. Especially at night, alone and without any means of communicating with the outside world. ‘I’ll be fine, I won’t take a weapon, they’ll probably just want to chat.’

 5.   That prophetic old timer or small child who knows something will go wrong

How do they know what’s going to happen? Maybe they should shout ‘Spoiler alert!’ before anything else; the hapless protagonists might pay more attention then.

 6.   Fake-looking gore

A film becomes considerably less scary once your attention is drawn to how unrealistic that decapitated head looks. It reminds you that this isn’t real and thus, you are safe. Some films need to take a tip from Psycho: if you can’t make the stabbing look real, don’t show it at all. It’s still terrifying in your imagination.

 7.   Lingering shots on items or places that will come back to haunt someone

Thanks for that subtle foreshadowing, generic horror film. I had no idea that the close up of the huge knife laying precariously on the table meant that someone would get attacked later. That cryptic clue of the light being on in the old abandoned house was helpful too.

 8.   Disposable characters

The know-it-all who thinks they can outsmart anything. The muscular yet foolhardy guy. The screaming blonde girl. The not quite important enough friend. That one nameless character at the beginning. All these people are going to die and you know it.

 9.   Use of ‘the’ in the title

You can almost see how the brainstorming process went. ‘Quick, think of a noun that sounds vaguely menacing. Add a definite article. Now, think up a plot.’

 10.   The ability to include all these clichés and still gain an audience

Despite the fact that many horror films are pretty predictable, packed full of one dimensional characters, and tend to be entirely ridiculous, we still watch them. Maybe it’s out of hope that this one will be better, maybe it’s to laugh at or maybe it’s out of genuine enjoyment, but someone must be watching these films. Clichés become clichés for a reason.

Go to the Burton Taylor pretty much any time in 5th week, and you’ll be met by fresh-faced first years, keen to show their Cuppers entry. At only £1 and taking up half an hour of your time, Cuppers is one of the best opportunities to see the range of dramas that Oxford has to offer. Cherwell’s contributors give you their take on the plays to look forward to…

ST HUGH’S

A group of St Hugh’s freshers are performing Punk Rock by Simon Stephens, a contemporary play that explores the complexities of the transition from childhood to adulthood for a group of affluent A-Level students. The flirtation, bullying and spontaneous interaction between the teenagers within the play creates humour and energy, yet there are also elements of heart-breaking darkness that expose the cruelty of teenagers desperately trying to mask their own fears. Based on his experience as a teacher, Stephens describes the play as ‘The History Boys on crack’ and we chose it because we felt that we could relate to both the characters and their situation.

Benita TIbb

KEBLE

In recent years, theatre companies such as Belt Up, Les Enfants Terribles, Dumbshow and The River People have brought dynamic, entertaining and engaging visual and physical theatre back to the forefront of the small-scale stage. This in mind, a number of us Keble fresher theatre fanatics spent a few days finding a play in a similar vain: one we thought would be suitably silly as well as vexingly thought-provoking. After stumbling through the odd Caryl Churchill and a couple of Ionescos, one of the cast introduced us to Anthony Neilson’s “Edward Gant’s Amazing Feats of Loneliness!”, a bizarre and brilliant suitcase comedy with oysters, pimples, pearls and the occasional planet. Two weeks into rehearsals and we’re thrilled to have found it: half our rehearsals have been spent studiously pouring over the text, the other half messing around with Neilson’s absurdly weird and wonderful characters. Whatever happens, we’ve had a ball – if you’ve got half an hour to spare (and if you’re also a fresher doing a humanity subject, you really have no excuse), come and spend a quid on what may well be an amusing and absorbing thirty minutes.

Giacomo Sain

BRASENOSE

Brasenose are putting on Stoppard’s Dogg’s Hamlet, a bold and exciting choice, requiring the actors to speak a significant chunk of their lines in the language ‘Dogg’, which uses English words but with completely different meanings. Hardly what I would call ‘cheap and cheerful’, but James Fennemore, the director, seems relaxed about calling it that. Happily, he also seems to have grasped the spirit of cuppers: everyone who wants to be is in the cast, even if that means having nine women and one man, and they’re enjoying getting to know each other and those with experience are mingling easily with the drama virgins. It’s always sad when there aren’t any scientists in the cast, but that’s hardly James’ fault. I’m very excited about BNC cuppers – a hilarious play put on by a fun-loving cast: what could possibly go wrong?

James Blythe

ST HILDA’S 

Sex… It’s a complicated affair. Sex is about communication. Sex is about interpretation. It’s about connecting words and actions; actions that do not always reflect the words uttered. When she says no does she really mean yes? Is he just saying yes when he really wants to say no? This moment in history is unprecedented in terms of the legal protection on paper for sexual abuse, yet the number of successful prosecutions for sexual harassment or rape is still exceedingly low. Inspired by recent high profile cases, this play attempts to highlight the complexities of human sexual relations and to understand the underlying forces and attitudes of the individuals and of society in interpreting the roles of the victim and of the aggressor. Mens Rea is a detailed look into the complexity and subtlety of both verbal and physical communication and the dynamics of power in one of the most important and common acts in human life.Come see the world premier of Mens Rea, Thursday, November 10th at 4.30 pm at The Burton Taylor Studio. 

Ben Schaper

MERTON

Eight Merton Freshers will be putting on a production of Martin McDonagh’s The Pillowman (which first premiered at the National in 2003). Director Julia Doyle explains that the play is the story of a writer of quite dark fairytales who is taken to the police station following a string of copycat murders. In the half hour Cuppers performance time the Merton team will stage a couple of fairytales, cutting back to the police interrogation scene in-between. Julia tells me the juxtaposition of the small tense scenes with the police with the full-cast performances of the fairytale sequences will be one of the most exciting aspects of the performance – ‘it’s different’, she says, ‘and very dark, but there’s a lot of black humour too!’ She praises the opportunities that Cuppers gives to first-year thespians, the open choice of play and the chance for lots of people to get involved. When I ask why people should go and see this particular Cuppers entry she laughs and tells me ‘because it’s going to be good!’

Finola Austin

MAGDALEN

God is dead and we have an overwhelming urge to get laid.This is a play with no beginning, middle or end. Two Ancient Greeks in Athens are about to see a play they wrote and are acting in. But what if the audience are characters in another play? And someone else is watching them? Or what if nothing exists? What if they or we are all in somebody’s dream? Described by some as “bullshit” Magdalen Cuppers entry isn’t Theatre of the Absurd it’s just absurd. Yes, it’s written by Woody Allen but that doesn’t mean you have to be a New York quasi-intellectual to enjoy it. To be honest it’s more reminiscent of When Harry Met Sally. A multitude of contradictions and questions: explore the ideas further at the Burton Taylor Studio Wednesday 9th November, 7pm.

Miriam Goodall

UNIVERSITY

Duck Variations by David Mamet is not really about ducks. It’s a play about two old men sitting on a park bench debating the possibility of happiness. Yet, in true cuppers style, things are never that simple.We have kept the same script but re-imagined the scenes, jumbled them up and spread them across time and place, gender and age to explore just how we find happiness. We’ve got lonely clowns, young lovers, hyper children, and yes, a pair of bickering old men. Yet all are united by their conversations on a park bench. Its turned into a sort of Godot + sex + ducks + climate change. It’s all horribly arty and I love it.It also happens to prove quite a nice double bill of American theatre with the other of Univ’s entries into the festival, Autobahn by Neil Labute, which explores the hilarious and sometimes unsettling goings-on in the front two seats of a car. Expect people going round the bend, relationships moving into fifth gear and the bumpiest stationary car ride you’ve ever been on–to pick but a few of the many driving related gags possible.

Dan Frampton

NEW

Cigarettes & Chocolate is a radio play by Anthony Minghella, writer and director of The English Patient, and The Talented Mr. Ripley among others.It is a gem of a play. The story is short and sparse, like the play.It centres around Gemma, who has stopped speaking. Her anxious husband Rob and various of her friends all try to talk to her, including the friend who’s in love with her and another who’s been having an affair with the husband.None get a response and yet by talking to her they all find themselves learning something about themselves. It’s therapy in all but name.Gemma tells us in the final speech of the play that people are always “saying so much to say nothing”; that silence now has a comfort to it that before was only provided by the eponymous ‘Cigarettes & Chocolate’.The production will be simple and direct, like the writing. Come and see it! Cigarettes and Chocolate is being performed by New College on Friday of 5th week at 8:30pm.

Alex Darby

BALLIOL

Balliol ‘Room 253’, Balliol’s entry for Cuppers 2011, is an original work that focuses on a single hotel room over four consecutive nights.  Through the room, multiple people unwittingly become intertwined with each other, coming to intimately affect each other’s lives without ever meeting. The cast consists of all the dysfunctional denizens of the suburban middle-class  –  the frustrated wife and her oblivious husband; a philandering businessman and his bitter ex-wife; an educated, high priced call girl desperately trying to keep up appearances and her eternally worried mother.  Through the medium of the hotel room we gain the briefest snapshots of their lives, and see them unknowingly connect  in ways that become increasingly both comedic and tragic.

Angus Hawkins

TEDDY HALL

The year is 2006.  On the way home from a hard day’s campaigning, a young, unknown MP finds himself jeered at by three mysterious London vagabonds.  “Hail to thee, Leader of the Liberal Democrats.”“Hail to thee, King-Maker.”“Hail to thee, Deputy Prime Minister.”Nick Clegg’s story begins… The Tragedie of MacClegg is a Shakespearean look at the political career of our beloved Deputy Prime Minister, Nick Clegg.  It isn’t a ‘political’ play in that we do not attack Clegg or his decision to join the coalition; his ‘Tragedie’ in how he was transformed, almost overnight, from being the new political hope of Britain to being represented as its latest love-to-hate villain.   A brand new tragicomedy for the modern age – there will be laughs, tears, and one serious message for all future political generations: “I dare do all that may become a Lib Dem;Who dares do more is none.”

Tom Bailey

WADHAM

‘Choosing a play is always difficult, but from the moment I met with my cast, I realised the simplest thing would be to work with the raw “talent” that we had.  The Ugly One is a play about the intertwined relationship between beauty and success.  Do you ever worry that you are “unspeakably ugly”, but have failed to notice before everyone else?  To what lengths would you go to claim the power to which beauty entitles you?  Marius von Mayenburg’s absurdist satire aims to blur all notions of identity with fast-paced dialogue and a ridiculous doubling-up of characters.  We endeavour to leave the audience feeling entertained and slightly confused. ‘

Maeve Scullion

ST CATZ

“You see us as you want to see us in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal.”In 1985 The Breakfast Club was released in cinemas to immense critical acclaim. It was lauded as the greatest film on teenage life. Now, for the first time, St. Catz are taking it from the screen to the stage in what promises to be probably the most epic half-hour of your life.Set in the detention room of an American high school, The Breakfast Club follows five students from different cliques. Trapped together, they are forced to connect, reveal their deepest fears and expose their disenchantment at modern society. Who should see this play? Anyone who’s ever struggled with teenage problems. Anyone who’s ever felt alone. Anyone who feels that the world is heading down the wrong direction. Anyone who wants to see mildly attractive people kissing on stage.Ladies and Gentlemen, we give you, The Breakfast Club!

Anirudh Mandagere

The blonde in front of me turned to her friend and said something along the lines of, ‘If I can just touch his bum once, in my life, I’ll be happy.’  Patrick Wolf, preening and perspiring, then swung a large spotlight into our eyes, possibly leaving lasting retinal damage, and causing a forest of hands to spring up in almost Pentecostal celebration.  No better way to celebrate Hallowe’en, then, than at his cultish altar.

Five albums into his career, Wolf is in a very comfortable spot, and it shows.  He swaggered onstage in jeans so tight that the Aloe Vera Vaseline perched over the famed left buttock was very clearly outlined, and delivered a sensitive and mature set, to a sensitive and mature crowd. Almost two hours of music, and most of it wonderful. Wolf has mastered the delicate art of playing fresh versions of old songs without leaving his fans feeling cheated out of what they love. It’s hard not to like the man – his rare bursts of speech were usually sweetly amusing, and he managed to pull off fluffing the words on a new track with high levels of charm.

All in all, it made for a very intimate and loving environment, especially when he congratulated us for dancing on a Monday night. And my God, can the boy sing. And strum, and pluck, and all other varieties of percussive movements. An acoustic arrangement with violin and harp for his upcoming EP was a particular highlight, as was a brief cover of Joni Mitchell’s ‘All I Want’.

Wolf’s instrumentalists are seriously good – Victoria Sutherland, his violinist, ran a high risk of stealing the show. Actually, all of it was good – clever lighting, good conversational rapport, an enthused, even fanatical, crowd, and fantastic, fantastic music. He emerged for the encore with some extraordinary taxidermic creature perched on his white shirt, which moulted gently through ‘The Magic Position’, and the eyes of the boy to my left began to well up. A gold star night.

Collaborations nearly always generate considerable amounts of excitement. The off-chance that the sum will be greater than its parts is always tantalising, no matter how illusory. The announcement that ex-Velvet Underground frontman Lou Reed and heavy metal giants Metallica would collaborate on an entire full-length record, then, despite all the cynicism, aroused hopes among a few that something of interest might emerge.

Could the bizarre concept, based on Frank Wedekind’s ‘Lulu’ sequence, actually conceal the stroke of genius? Fascination was only fed by Reed’s announcement to New York Magazine, months ahead of release, that ‘It’s maybe the best thing done by anyone, ever. It could create another planetary system. I’m not joking, and I’m not being egotistical.’ Hyperbolic yes, but was his enthusiasm genuine? Then came the press video, a soft-focus black and white thirteen minute interview of Lou and Lars on a couch. ‘I couldn’t think of anyone more obvious to collaborate with,’ said Ulrich. ‘This is all first take stuff’, said Kirk Hammett, Metallica’s lead guitarist.

The whole Lulu enterprise quickly teetered into ludicrousness. Maybe it was a long term prank: after all, Joaquin Phoenix stubbornly pretended to have ‘quit’ acting and started a hip-hop career for almost two years. But ‘LouTallica’ is no hoax (it hit the shelves on Monday – Halloween).

It’s an arduous listen. Reed utters rambling, melodramatic lines loosely connected to Wedekind’s piece over half-baked Metallica tracks for a full hour and a half. It’s almost difficult to describe individual ‘songs’, for they leave absolutely no impression on the listener as they progress through the record. One is left with only fuzzy half recollections of a noisy, discordant mess. Opener ‘Brandenburg Gate’ begins with Reed’s disinterested claims that ‘I would cut my legs and tits off’, before Metallica’s guitars begin screeching in full force, and vocalist James Hetfield repeatedly (and inexplicably) wails ‘small town girl’ for another three minutes. And that’s probably the most engaging track of the bunch. The whole existence of Lulu, however, has become so farcical that its actual release is almost anticlimactic. Probably best to pretend it never happened, for the legacies of everyone involved.

According to Chris Martin, Coldplay’s latest, Mylo Xyloto, is a concept album, following a classic love fable narrative that was inspired by The Wire and The White Rose Movement, a more ‘acoustic’ and ‘intimate’ compilation, meant to scale back Viva La Vida’s grandiose, arena rock presumptions. But don’t expect liner notes full of obtuse historical references or even cohesive storytelling from Coldplay’s fifth studio LP. Instead Mylo Xyloto finds Martin spouting the same pretty babble that he always has, veering between nonsensical and trite over amiable keyboards and Brian Eno-engineered walls of twinkly synth.

And that’s all right. For what they do, Coldplay mostly do it well. It’s populist, inoffensive pop that goes down easy; it doesn’t challenge the listener, but it doesn’t falter or overreach either. Mylo Xyloto has everything we’ve come to expect of Coldplay’s recent releases – the requisite soaring guitar solos, Martin’s high-pitched, keening oohs and ahs, the inevitable glittering cascades of piano keys, the moments when you forget you’re not listening to a U2 record. ‘Hurts Like Heaven’ is an obvious Phoenix clone, but it’s still a good song, with bubbling vocals and spacey techno beats that prove to be an irresistible combination.

First single ‘Every Teardrop is a Waterfall’ (inane title aside) is one of the stronger tracks, building to the kind of anthemic, swelling chorus that made Coldplay famous.  The ballads ‘U.F.O.’ and ‘Up in Flames’ are standard acoustic numbers, with lyrics about meandering rivers and broken hearts. Both songs suffer from the feeling that the closeness fostered by a simple, echoing drum line and the squeak of guitar strings is forced, a manufactured effect that doesn’t quite translate into warmth.

The album could’ve done without the interludes, ‘M.M.I.X’, ‘A Hopeful Transmission’ and the eponymous intro. Coldplay’s style is consistent enough that they aren’t necessary; we don’t need to be coaxed into believing that the songs belong together. Martin trades verses with Rihanna on ‘Princess of China’, a thudding, fuzzy rocker replete with enviable hooks. The bottom line is if you like Coldplay, you’ll like Mylo Xyloto. The album delivers what it promises – a series of polished, if predictable, pop tunes.

When we went in to record we just asked ourselves what we could imagine playing a lot.’ Peter Silberman, The Antlers’ frontman, muses on the beginnings of their latest record, ‘Well, it’s going to be something fun.’ Sat in the band’s snug tour bus along with drummer Mike Lerner and ‘multi-instrumentalist’ Darby Cicci, we discussed the fresh approach they had taken to making Burst Apart, the much anticipated follow up to 2009’s towering Hospice. Silberman continued, ‘We wanted to make something that had a sombre tone to it, like Hospice, but we wanted to enjoy doing it.’

This focus on enjoyment was clear throughout The Antlers’ performance later that evening, where they played a set consisting almost uniformly of cuts from Burst Apart, all of which translated seamlessly to the live setting. ‘They’re all working really well live,’ Mike told me, ‘obviously we’re evolving the tracks but we’ve always done that.’ One of the main reasons for this is that Burst Apart is the first album that The Antlers has made from start to finish as a bona fide band. Previously the solo project of Silberman, the band evolved into a three piece following the release of Hospice. Cicci described to me the importance of jamming in the writing stage of Burst Apart, although he was quick and emphatic in making the distinction between ‘jamming as a band’ and being a ‘jam band’.

The process of releasing creative control over the project he had nurtured since its inception in 2006 must have been a difficult one for Silberman, but he seemed overtly positive about The Antlers’ current incarnation.

‘With Hospice I was trying to very carefully write something,’ he told me. ‘I don’t think it would have been healthy to go through it all again. What I needed was to let go.’ Silberman certainly seemed comfortable within the band dynamic, sitting back to allow his collaborators to field my questions, perhaps relieved to have surrendered some responsibility. He explained, ‘That’s why it was so great when we went into recording. There was the pressure of following up Hospice but we felt we had freedom to do whatever we wanted and that helped it be a better record.’

Our conversation returned to the pivotal Hospice and the long shadow that it still casts over The Antlers. The band made no attempt to downplay the album’s importance, describing it as ‘the record that gave us our career.’ I asked them about their feelings when making Burst Apart – did it seem like they had everything to lose? ‘That’s exactly how it felt,’ Silberman replied. The band agreed that a lack of preconceived ideas about the end product made the process of recording Burst Apart a much smoother one. ‘Otherwise, I think it would’ve felt more like a commitment that we had to power through,’ Silberman concluded.

Despite this fairly open ended approach to recording Burst Apart, the album couldn’t feel more cohesive as a singular work, continuing in the tradition of Hospice. ‘There’s an arc that’s very important,’ Cicci explained, placing significant value on the album as a format, ‘We think of it as a whole piece of music rather than a bunch of songs.’ A sadly unfashionable view to hold in today’s musical climate, The Antlers’ disillusionment with the music industry in fact runs far deeper than the demise of the album.

‘I despair more for people who make records because they feel they have to,’ Cicci continued as Silberman interjected, ‘I wish bands had more time to make records as well, not just two weeks in the studio.’

As our conversation drew to a close, Cicci summed up The Antlers’ philosophy succinctly, ‘I wish more people would come up with ideas of what they actually wanted to make and just make it. However weird or unusual it might be.’ Thus far, this is exactly what The Antlers have done. They represent that all too rare breed of musicians making music for no one else but themselves and, after our brief meeting, I am in no doubt that they will continue for long into the future.