Thursday, May 22, 2025
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New Therapy for Depression to be Trialled in Oxford

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The Universities of Oxford and Bangor have together launched a million pound study into a new therapy designed to help prevent patients relapsing into suicidal depression. Rebecca Crane, of the Centre for Mindfulness Research and Practice, said that the team was “optimistic” of establishing a new preventative approach to tackling depression. The treatment, based on ‘mindfulness’, encourages individuals to accept emotions and to approach experiences with openness in order to reduce stress. The therapy is to be trialled in both Oxford and North Wales.

by Rob Pomfret
 

First Night Review: Duchess of Malfi

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By Jay Alexander Hilton Butler

The Dutchess of Malfi is truly a study in disintegration. By the play’s end we have witnessed no less than seven gruesome murders through means as fantastical as a poisoned Bible, and the play’s central sibling trio (the Duchess and her two brothers) are finished off in an odd mix of madness, maniacal scheming, and revenge. It is this tremendous sense of decay that seems best to encapsulate the present production. It starts strong and ends farcically.

The first half is excellent. Scene changes are fast and maintain dramatic momentum. Titas Halder’s direction displays a keen sense for blocking that never leaves the large stage of the Playhouse feeling too empty and the musical effects are well chosen. Mention must also be made of the Duchess herself. Sian Robins-Grace is stunning. She produces an emotional range unmatched by anyone else on stage. And her carriage commands our attention even when Webster has nothing for her to say. Owen Findlay also bears note as the strongest male actor in the cast for his charming and yet complex Bosola.

However, these two performances hid faults that began to increasingly detract from the production as it proceeded. Brian McMahon’s Ferdinand is abysmal. Always agitated, he blunders through many of the most sensuous lines in the play and does little to convey the romantic interest in his twin sister (the Duchess) that fuels his jealous and yet self-destructive rage against her. Unfortunately, his final lunacy was hardly shocking, since the only contrast in his delivery throughout the play was one of volume rather than tone, cadence, or manner.

 

This deficiency was not particularly noticeable in the first half because the play worked so well as a whole. However, such faults became increasingly apparent after the intermission with the breakdown of its other positive elements. Scene changes were slower, music was not used as skilfully, and the play dragged. It seemed almost as though there had not been as much time devoted to rehearsing the latter half since many of the interactions between characters were unnecessarily awkward.

The dramatic climax was certainly the execution of the Duchess (a tremendously gripping scene) and yet the play carried on for quite some time afterward with little character development apart from Ferdinand’s transformation into a werewolf. This is largely, of course, a fault of the play as Webster’s crude love of needless gore is aired fully. Yet, a bolder director might well have simply ended the play immediately after the Duchess’ death or played the final scenes with more subtlety. Instead, what followed was something of a comic circus with bodies splayed across the stage. After Bosola stabbed the scheming Cardinal, for instance, the latter fell awkwardly at the top of a staircase and was forced thereafter to prop himself up (so as not to fall down the stairs entirely) while chiming in occasional lines.

 

In short, the play was perhaps forty-five minutes too long. Some more insightful cuts and a more polished second half would not so disappointingly have detracted from the production’s many commendable attributes.

Hood to Stand Down as Vice-Chancellor

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Vice-Chancellor of the University, Dr John Hood, has announced today that he will be leaving his post at the end of his five-year term in September 2009.In a statement made earlier, Hood said: "I continue to believe that five years is the right period. That was the commitment I made on my appointment as vice-chancellor and it remains my view today… "Oxford is making huge progress on so many fronts and I look forward immensely to helping it to make further substantial advances over the next two years."Hood came into the role in 2004, after leaving the University of Auckland in New Zealand. Considered the first "outsider" to take the position, his tenure has been marked by controversy as he worked to change the way in which the university was governed.Chancellor of the university, Lord Patten, praised Hood's clarity of vision and strength of commitment during his years, commending his "remarkable job" as vice-chancellor.

Palin to Open New Pitt Rivers Extension

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Former Monty Python star and television presenter Michael Palin will open the new £8 million extension at the Pitt Rivers Museum, it was announced earlier.
Vice Chancellor Dr John Hood will also be present at the opening, which will take place on 22nd November.
A major grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund has meant that Phase II of the development plan can now go ahead, with proposals will be formally announced during the event.

Drama Review: Mojo

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by Frankie Parham

One of the hardest things to achieve dramatically is a period-driven piece: it offers an audience the chance to criticise something that is either anachronistic or lacking in credibility. Jez Butterworth’s Mojo, a period drama, set in the dingy back alleys of 1950s Soho, immediately presents this challenge to those who attempt to stage it. However, this production, directed by Adam Grant and Kate Antrobus, manages to pull it off. From the moment the lights are up, the viewer is yanked into this grimy world, full of kitsch silver chairs and sleazy clothes. The juke box in the corner (cleverly made out of cardboard boxes and colourful foam floats to simulate the outer rims) is not just a cheap attempt to evoke the period, but rather a reflection of the base typicality of Ezra’s Atlantic Nightclub.

Despite all this satisfyingly understated grime, the play would have failed had it not been for the ceaselessly energetic performances given by a highly able cast. Potts (Nat Gordon) and Sweets (Will Giller) are hatching a plan to make money out of their hottest property, the rising star Silver Johnny (Dan Rolle). Gordon speaks with a fantastically intimidating backstreet London accent, constantly fuming in a drugged up stupor as he obsessively sniffs and chews gum. Giller is similarly effective in portraying a feeble night-club bouncer (sidekick to Potts’ assumed superiority) on way too many pills. His speech is so convoluted and rushed, he is barely understandable. These two are the solid foundations of the cast, unwavering in their performance, keeping up a staggering amount of vigour throughout. Meanwhile the son of Ezra (the owner of the bar) comes in the unstable form of Baby (Sam Kennedy), aptly named for all his childish antics. Even before finding out his dad has been chopped in half, and disposed of in separate dustbins, Baby has already gone out to buy everyone toffee apples, having just stripped Skinny (Jack Sanderson-Thwaites) almost completely naked (as if things could get any more disturbing). Kennedy and Sanderson-Thwaites make a great double act, the latter in a consistently agitated state, biting his nails, nervously muttering, tantalised by the deranged Baby.

Into this crazed mixture arrives their colleague Mickey, solidly brought to life by Gerard Miles. He appears at the beginning of the second scene, while Baby is frantically wielding a sword and Potts and Sweets are raving to ’50s rock tunes, and he provides the icy demeanour that cools the uncomfortable heat of the drama. Indeed, this scene is another example where Grant and Antrobus choose to drag their audience right into the midst of the repulsive action, however unwilling we are to be. Things become richer with Silver Johnny’s entrance and, climaxing to its bitter conclusion, the play only really suffers from rare moments of static blocking. It seemed at times that Gordon and Giller, emitting as much energy as they could, were constricted by various blocking directions, while other characters, like Baby, had it easier to breeze about the stage. Nevertheless, for hyperactive drama and limitless swearing (both necessary to induce such a besmirched setting) this is the play to see. Not for the faint of heart.

 

7:30pm, BT Studio: Run ends on Saturday 17th November

Live Review: From Russia to Mansfield

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by Hannah Nepil

 
It would seem that the Oxford Studio Orchestra hit the proverbial jack-pot on Saturday, when they performed three works by some of the hottest personalities in Russian showbiz:  Stravinsky, Shostakovich and Rachmaninov. From the cartoon depiction of the Kremlin emblazoned on the programme's front cover, to the notable absence of a single empty seat contained in the entire expanse of Mansfield Chapel, it was clear that every ounce of potential offered by this winning formula had been diligently realised. One might argue that such credentials sufficed to ensure the concert's success; as one nameless member of the audience remarked: It doesn't really matter how they play because you can kind of hear what it's meant to sound like in your head anyway. The performers themselves could have done with some of this assurance. Their timid appeal, We hope that the audience will appreciate the end result of our labours, even if tempi and nuances do not always match those to be found in their CD libraries was endearing but did not cast an auspicious light over the entertainment to come. 

 

A little more optimism would not have been misplaced. The opening to Shostakovich's Festive Overture was carried by the brass with real verve which continued to gather momentum. The players' energy was infectious, even if it did radiate predominantly from the percussion and brass section, who proceeded to bull-doze the strings. With hindsight  this effect could be cast however, not as a misjudgement of acoustics but as an appropriate reappraisal of timbral balance, for example at the beginning of Stravinsky's Firebird where the absence of the brass was mourned. Although the eerie muttering of the strings evoked the right atmosphere, they overshot the mark, to the detriment of clarity. The mood was  adeptly controlled by the conductor, Christopher Fletcher-Campbell who subtly bent the tempo to convey Stravinsky's quirky manipulation of rhythm, nevertheless, the poignancy of certain moments, such as the folk song of the finale was lost in an apologetic fumble.

 

The cold-blooded sabotage of Rachmaninov's decadent tribute to self-indulgence, his Second Piano Concerto, might have been hard to forgive. Luckily, the pianist, Tallis Barker's masterfully controlled emotion and technical dexterity seemed to kick start the strings into action, and infused the first movement with a sense of drive and excitement, testified by a lone, swiftly stifled clap from somewhere in the auditorium, which punctuated the gap between the first and second movements. With such a promising beginning, the second movement was eagerly anticipated: If the first movement were to be described as a little cheesy, then the second would be more of a gorgonzola bonanza, which has been deemed worthy of hijacking for many a worthy contemporary cause. If one tried very hard, they could even imagine Celine Dion herself being majestically elevated from the back of the percussion section at the end of the movement before breaking into a rendition of All By Myself. Sadly, any such illusion was dispelled by the grinding of the strings, which was heightened by the slow tempo. They however, could not distract from Tallis Barker's sensitive rendition of the movement, set off by his assured technical finesse. Happily, with the last movement returned the exuberance of the first, and it was mainly with this impression that the audience was left. 

Binge-Drinking Safe for Pregnant Women Claims Controversial Report

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A controversial study published by scientists at Oxford University has claimed that binge-drinking while pregnant will not harm an unborn child.

The evidence, which contradict earlier studies, states that consistent heavy drinking during pregnancy is more detrimental to the health of the foetus than binge-drinking. Previous research had linked consistently heavy drinking during pregnancy to birth defects, but the effect of binge-drinking was largely unknown until now. Researchers claim that the risk of damage to the foetus is "minimal", with "little substantial evidence" that it could cause miscarriage, stillbirth or abnormal birth-weight, or other adverse effects. The research, which was published by scientists at Oxford University and the University of Aarhus, states: "When pregnant women report isolated episodes of binge-drinking in the absence of a consistently high daily alcohol intake…the evidence of risk seems minimal."Other experts have received the new results cautiously, warning that the only safe advice is to not drink while pregnant.

Review: Encounter Point and Discussion, Union, 12/11/07

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By Avi Bram

 

Monday night saw a special screening of Encounter Point at the Oxford Union. The film documents the activities of the ‘Parents Circle – Families Forum’, a group of Israelis and Palestinians who have lost family members in the conflict and have come together to work for peace. After the screening there was an open discussion with Ronit Avni, the director, and two leading PC-FF activists, Ali Abu Awwad and Robi Damelin. The event came at an interesting time, when co-existence projects are coming under criticism from some analysts as being ineffective at best and a distraction from the ‘real issues’ at worst. When this question arose in the discussion, there was general agreement that not all co-existence groups are useful.

Robi stated her contempt for the “hugs and hummous” model of interfaith dialogue, where people from the two sides are encouraged to bond on a personal level but the political aspect is not explored. The difference with PC-FF, in her eyes, was that its aims were promoting understanding of the other’s national history and working for a just resolution to the conflict. Ronit also pointed out that, though hugs-only groups are doomed to fail because they ignore the vital issue, building up personal relations with the ‘other’ at first can often motivate people to become political activists later on.

A powerful example in the film is Shlomo Zagman, a former settler who agrees to meet with Ali – the first Palestinian he’s ever properly talked to – and gradually becomes more involved in social activism, helping found a movement for religious settlers seeking an end to the occupation. When producing Encounter Point the filmmakers took an decision to avoid detailing current affairs (which become out-of-date incredibly quickly in the Middle East), and instead to focus on individuals involved in co-existence work. They selected eight activists from 475 potential applicants and the vast majority of the documentary is given over to their histories, opinions and daily life. The rationale for this is to provide evidence that there are people on both sides who believe in peace, fighting the prevalent notion amongst Israelis and Palestinians that ‘there is no-one to talk to on the other side’. Encounter Point has met with very wide acclaim, showing in cinemas throughout Israel and the Palestinian Territories and in over 35 cities worldwide.

Ali related how he had positive discussions about the film with dignitaries ranging from Jewish US congressman Gary Ackerman to the head of the Jenin branch of Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade (a Palestinian militant group) Zakariya Zubeidi. The stance of the PC-FF is highly controversial amongst the two populations. Ali explained that, as a fighter who had spent years in Israeli prisons, he could have been a hero in his homeland. However, his decision to work with the ‘Bereaved Families Forum’ raised a lot of criticism from other Palestinians who saw this as ‘collaborating’ with Israelis. In his own view, Ali has continued to resist the occupation, and is not normalising relations with Israelis.

He gave two reasons for switching to non-violent methods: firstly the general principle that the aim of peace should only be achieved through peaceful means, and secondly that violent resistance has proved a failure for the Palestinians in particular: non-violent means will be a more effective way of ending the occupation. Ali cited some common examples of non-violent protest leaders – Gandhi, Martin Luther King – as giving him some inspiration, and further noted that the Palestinian cause lost a lot of the sympathy it had commanded in the West due to the tactic of suicide bombing that became prominent with the start of the ‘Second Intifada’ in 2000. The delegates were adamant in their hopes that Oxford students would join in the struggle for peace. We cannot just sit around and wait for the messiah, Robi warns. “If the messiah comes, either the Palestinians or the Israelis will kill him anyway.” Action is required now – not just warm wishes and hugs. But there is a point of confusion here. The panel are unanimous in their belief that civic society rather than governments must be the ones that bring peace. But what concrete action can we take in Britain apart from pressuring our government to take up a more active role? Indeed, at the end of the talk, the director produced a petition to be sent to Tony Blair, requesting that the PC-FF be included in the upcoming Anapolis peace conference. Certainly, it is valuable for us to be better informed about the conflict. But on its own that is unlikely to change things quickly – the ripple effect from Britain on the people of the Holy Land will not be very powerful. But of course, this conflict has no easy solutions; which is why it was so encouraging to encounter a group of people prepared to struggle against grave difficulties to find peace.

 

Live Review: Quentin Tarantino and the Reservoir Dogs at the Cellar 02/11/07

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by Georgina White

 

Entering the cellar mid-gig there are any number of things you might expect to see –  a crowd of carefully coiffured indie kids tapping converse-clad feet, the wall of studied disinterest of the post-rock brigade, even the odd mini-moshpit (in a very polite, Oxfordian manner, of course). But tonight, the couple at the front of the crowd seem to be doing the Charleston. And the way the girl beside the stage is moving can't be described in any terms other than 'jive'. Tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, Quentin Tarantino and the Reservoir Dogs are in town.

 

And its not just their sharp suits and intricately sculpted facial hair which is making the crowd go wild. The youth of Oxford seem to have discovered something startling – jazz-funk is a riot, and Quentin Tarantino and the Reservoir Dogs are its ringleaders.

 

Now, Cherwell 24 can appreciate the genius of jazz just as much as the next online, student-written, Oxford-based newspaper, but we've rarely seen anyone dance to it. And the reason for this, as anyone who's been to the Bullingdon Arms of a Tuesday night will appreciate, is that it's just not inclusive enough. The extended solo serves as an opportunity for the other band members to give the soloist a knowing wink, congratulating him for a particularly daring E flat or the audacious move into 9/8 time. For the audience, trying to keep up with the professionals on stage, it's far too painfully cerebral an experience for it to spark the body into anything more than an anxious finger tap (or a few successive trips to the bar).

 

Quentin Tarantino and the Reservoir Dogs, however, by adding the funk to the jazz, seem to have solved this problem. They have all the technical brilliance and scintillating flights of jazz – the sharp bursts of energy, the challenging departures, then the sudden resurfacing of the familiar motifs – but they've managed to do it without the 24 bar drum solos. The pace is kept up and the texture meaty as they attack old jazz standards with the power of a full band, or engage in short, sharp exchanges between the instruments, rather than descending into fret-noodling tedium. And the excitement of audience's response says it all. There's dancing, laughing, shrieking even (though that may indeed have been the effect of the facial hair), and in over an hour's set, no-one seems to be experiencing a dull moment.

 

Tonight, we all get to discover how vibrant, how exciting this kind of music can be, and it's funking sensational. As the final strains of the trombone fade into the midnight air, this reviewer sets off, a born again jazz-funk convert.

Art Review: Common Threads

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by Daisy Dunn

Common Threads-An Exhibition of Patchwork Panels

Jacqueline Du Pre Building, St. Hilda’s College, October 28th-December 1st

 

There is something innately youthful about ‘patchwork’ as an artistic medium. It is this very nostalgic feeling, heightened by the intensity and fiercely clashing nature of a full palate of colours and dyes, that  first strikes one upon entering the glass anteroom of the ‘JDP’ building.  ‘Common Threads’, an exhibition of wall-based textile artwork produced by the Oxford multicultural textile community, falls  midway between a monarchically traditional tapestry array and a primary school display board.  And yet, the thought behind each of the textile panels is embraced by neither of these parodies. 

 

The belied naivety of the exhibition as a whole, as well as being promoted by the primitive associations  of  patchwork craft, arises from the internal imagery of many textile squares.  One of Junie James’ pieces, for instance, alights upon those very features which differentiate England from her time-old memories of Jamaica.  Visualised through the eyes of a child, a Christmas tree looms jovially before a  claustrophobically terraced Oxford street.  Patricia White’s journey, whilst geographically not quite as extreme, is realised in the panel entitled ‘Mobility’, which portrays her transition from a depressingly  industrial northern town to an aesthetically stunning Oxford College.  Oxford as home is also envisaged by Judy Hammond, whose intensely moving artwork was influenced by the Botanic Garden’s former  existence as a Jewish cemetery; Hammond, who never knew the whereabouts of her Jewish grandparents’ graves, interns them symbolically in this fruitful spot. The Common Thread between such disparate tales of disparate places, Oxford, is most poignantly played up by patchwork itself, a  medium which strives to collocate disparate materials in an harmonious way. 

 

It is not only the highly personal experience that is explored in this show.  As a reflection of the group’s  connection with Out of Africa 2007, a project which celebrates the Bicentenary of the Abolition of the  Transatlantic Slave Trade, more pandemic issues such as civil rights have sparked inspiration.  One sizeable panel features a selection of ironed-on images and quotes from both Martin Luther King and proponents of the Black Power Movement, such as Stokely-or ‘Stokey’ as he is here rendered- Carmichael.  As political art, the ostensibly congruous inclusion of two historically conflicting  movements on one canvas seems both ironic and falsely idealised; unless, of course, the artist is to be  taken as exploring the common thread between Peaceful Resistance and Black Power.  Such a realisation seems unlikely, but the political failings of these panels do little to render them contrived or  any less emotional. 

 

All in all, much of the success of the exhibition itself is dependent on comprehending the feelings of  culture-clash versus integration, which form the backbone of many of the panels.  Without the emotion of each story elucidated, either visually or literarily, one cannot help but fall prey to the more obvious  decries of amateurism, albeit sympathetically, which are evoked upon first viewing. 

 

A concert featuring Black Voices, linked to the exhibition, will take place on November 30th. The textile  group welcomes new members: see www.oxnet.org.uk/textilesforpeace