Editorial

The Oxford Theatre Review is a new publication that aims to fill a current gap in Oxford theatre writing. For all the obvious advantages of the current press preview system: advance publicity, lengthy writing and editing time and the chance for committed students to iron out any last minute glitches, we believe that there can be no substitute for reviewing the full play as it will appear in situ to the general audience.

A review, ideally, should perform two complementary functions. It should answer the fundamental question, ‘is this a play worth paying the ticket price to see?’ and it should be of some use to directors and actors as a fresh perspective in highlighting what worked and what did not from the stalls.

By seeing all the plays in this issue on opening night, we hope to have produced accurate reviews able to consider aspects of the production, set, and overall vision not fully apparent at the press preview, and to have gone some way in filling the above two criteria.

If we liked a play we have said so, from an entirely neutral perspective. If a play did not seem to work we have said why, and not ignored its positive aspects. Clearly student plays, manned as they are by passionate, dedicated yet busy people are capable of dramatic changes from night to night, and should not be judged as critically as their professional counterparts. Individual reviewers will of course have their own unique likes, dislikes and pet peeves. Yet we have strived to provide a balance across the issue as a whole and to reward attempts to break out of the “Oxford show” mould in particular. We submit these to you not as a definitive judgement, but as an honest guide to our reactions that we hope will be of some use in solving that eternal puzzler

“What shall we go and see tonight?”

The contributors for this Issue were:

James Kierstead
Tom Ogg
Lauren Schwartzman

It was edited by Richard Teverson, Lauren Schwartzman and David Sim

Thank you for reading!

Dom – BT late slot, until 18 June

The second offering at the BT shares one thing, and one thing only, with the early slot: it is not a traditional play. Instead we have 45 minutes of ‘sit-down comedy’: a mixture of humorous anecdotes, silly costumes and free biscuits. DOM, a one-man show starring Dominic Mattos, is an entertaining 8th week diversion. I recommend it heartily, and not just for the free biscuits. But be warned – if you don’t appreciate high camp, stay away.

I understand that the show itself is unscripted and content will vary from night to night, but tonight’s was focused on Dom’s triumphs and tragedies in the educational system, interspersed with an amusing rendition of “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend” and a really quite good impression of Ethel Merman singing “I Get a Kick out of You”, all topped off with “I Will Survive” in a bright-pink Marie Antoinette wig. If this sounds non-sensical, worry not. It’s not about deep, important themes here, but rather a valuable attempt to make an Oxford audience laugh and relax. A difficult task, no doubt, but executed largely successfully. This is not the sort of show one expects to see in Oxford: wholly unself-conscious and joyfully camp, it is bound to make a certain sort of theatregoer here uncomfortable. All the more reason he should attend.

The stage for the ‘sit-down comedy’ is delightfully cluttered with hats, blouses and random props as well as a bright-green ladder which is creatively used throughout. Lighting and sound were simple (with one startling exception) and designed not to get in the way of the show, i.e. Dom himself – but the sound for the musical interludes was a little loud for the small BT and occasional drowned out Dom’s belting voice. The only disappointment was that the show felt rushed: another half-hour of this unique brand of storytelling and song would not have been wasted and perhaps the audience could have got another round of free biscuits.

So, while I can’t promise that you will learn as I did the secret of a religion based on Party Rings, see “Santa Claus: This is Your Life” and Ethel Merman on acid and hear about the exuberant Lenten festivities at St Bennett’s, if you show up with the right attitude I can almost guarantee that you will have a good time.

The Mythologies – BT early slot until 18 June

The Mythologies, in the BT early slot, resembles a collection of blank verse poems more than it does a play – a fact perhaps not completely surprising, since the inspiration for the ‘plot’ – of which there is not much – comes vaguely from Catullus’ poem 63. Like the Latin poem, this play is ‘about’ the goddess/queen Cybele, the descent of her favourite, Attis, into madness, and ends with senseless violence that I think is meant to shock. The Mythologies rests on atmosphere: clearly the intent is to create a growing, unrelieved tension, along with a healthy dose of arty mystification. As a theatre-piece, it just doesn’t quite work.

This is not due to any lack of effort or skill from the cast. Michael Donkor as Attis is a charismatic central presence, whose madness is the most compelling aspect of the play. His convincing portrayal is all the more impressive considering he is an understudy. Sophie Kainradl as Cybele has a suitably majestic voice and presence with a permanent glassy-eyed stare which contributes to the attempted relentless menace, but she seems to talk past the other actors rather than interact – perhaps a directorial choice but not one that helps the audience connect with the piece. Anna Kelly as the nurse is very earnest, but again, she doesn’t connect with Attis and could have recited many of her lines in a vacuum with much the same effect. The fact that they have presumably not worked extensively with Donkor as Attis may be a factor here. Henry Sherlin as the politician seems out of place in this stylised piece with his more conversational tone and seems uncomfortable when he is forced to deliver one of those poetic speeches.

The other elements of the production were presumably meant to add to the ominous atmosphere. The set was simple but effective, with creative use of small pieces of furniture obliquely suggesting various settings. The choice of music, including even in retrospect the loud pre-show selection, was subtly unsettling. A few props were mimed, which took the audience out of the moment, and some others were left distractingly scattered about the stage. The design team appears not to have decided whether to go “conceptual” or “realistic”. The lighting was simple but not terribly well-executed, much of the time the actors’ faces were not lit; there was also too much blackout for a 45-minute show.

The Mythologies is new writing and is trying something different, and for this it should be praised. But it is too self-consciously arty to have a real emotional effect beyond a vague feeling of tension which is never satisfactorily resolved. As a tone poem there were some nice lyrical moments and some very good readings by the actors, but as an hour in the theatre it needs a little more substance.

Children’s Hour – Keble O’Reilly Theatre until 18 June

Children’s Hour is a taboo-breaking tragedy of callous lies, malevolent children and implausible storylines.

Yet poor plays which gain notoriety through past controversies should be raised from the dead with caution. This play unfortunately has little else but a faint absurdity to add to a production riven with appalling technical faults, sluggish direction and preceded by a dodgy chauvinistic film imposed prior to the play. Sometimes you just have to shrug your shoulders in disbelief.

This was an awful choice of play, apathetically executed. Children’s Hour saw a storm of controversy and Broadway success when published in the 1930s, but today seems dated. Karen and Martha have set up a dream private school for wealthy children, and work closely for years to achieve the success they enjoy. Their idyllic existence is shattered by the lies of a troubled young girl named Mary, who seemingly seeks to cause as much trouble as she can and free herself from the routines of school. Mary runs away from school to her Aunt (who lives surprisingly locally) in order to free herself from school, and tries all she can to avoid her return.

The Children’s Hour revolves around a Mary’s false accusations of teacher lesbianism at the nineteenth century boarding school in which the play is set. The plot is too linear, the audience being presented with contrived situations which consequently lack dramatic effect. There are too many coincidences, implausible changes of tack and astounding gullible adults to make the play entertaining- it seems dated and silly. Often characters seem mere props to propel the plot forwards. Comparisons to the recent Michael Jackson case and other celebrities who have been accused of rape or child abuse would seem to give the play some contemporary relevance.

However this play is about a small town of locals irrationally following the lies of a trouble making young girl- there is no theme of mass media or celebrity here, and whilst the hurtful potential of false accusations is made all too clear, the relevance of the play to our contemporary problems look remote. Many of the characters in this play require great credibility to pull off, given the tensions in the text. For example, the aunt of the lying child must simultaneously be influential and authoritative enough to get all the parents in the boarding school to withdraw their children in a single evening based solely on her word. Yet she must be gullible enough to do this on worthless promise of the obviously conniving and fickle child, Mary, who has been searching for excuses to avoid school for half a scene. She thoughtlessly calls the other parents instantly after the porky is told. Such a paradoxical character must be deftly played or the text modified to make sense of the sheer daftness of the situation- something must give credibility to the story! It just doesn’t seem plausible that the well known schemer could give credibility to the outlandish claim, that anyone would believe her or that the chain of events leading to the claim is in any way believable.

The Aunt is portrayed as in full use of her faculties, disciplining the child no less, until she chooses to believe this particular lie. So if the only message of the play is the stigma of lesbianism, then again, it makes the play dated.Furthermore, Mary is not convincing- the child requires a certain darkness and a calculating nature which the capriciously vicious and tantrum prone character does not portray. The “sick-sweet voice” of the child which the accused teachers decry simply seems too dim-witted to be believable. Furthermore, the scenes are strung out for far too long and are sometimes painful- we share in the anguish of the actors on stage for all the wrong reasons. In scenes in which Mary is interrogated it feels artificial and concludes not only unexpectedly, but in way which strikes one as plain silly.

Light relief is provided in the excellent performance of the sceptical maid, who breaks up the wandering nature of the play. American accents are confusingly strewn throughout the cast, undermining the attempt to depict the past, ties in with the poor choice of play for the contemporary audience. Joe, the fiancé of one of the teachers, provides an entertaining and sharp performance. A reasonable performance by the cast was let down by the farcical technical support and poor choice of play. The play began after a half hour delay in which we were shown a crass film (twice) which obviously wasn’t meant to be silent, with the consequence that the tech-boys deafened us with sound effects for the rest of the play in compensation. Then they left the audience lighting on throughout the first act, dimly reminding me of some of the sleepier lectures of my Oxford career. Amusingly one of the actors slipped into a northern accent for a couple of lines before reverting to Oxford English for the rest of the play. Overall, a disappointing evening.

Uncle Vanya – Oxford Playhouse, until 18 June 2005

The reputation of the Maly Drama Theatre of St Petersburg preceded it to Oxford. Maria Shevtsova, Professor of Drama at Goldsmiths College, London, wonders whether the company’s actors are not “indeed, the best in the world, even when compared with the finest in Britain.” According to La Repubblica, “The Maly Drama Theatre company boasts of the highest quality of acting this is an inspiring proof that even today theatre can be moving and serious.” In 1998 the company became one of only three theatres to be granted the title ‘Theatre of Europe’. This production of Uncle Vanya has won Russian Golden Mask awards for Best Director (Lev Dodin), best actor (Sergey Kuryshev) as well as the Italian Critics’ Prize for the Best Foreign Production.

In such a context, it is easy to feel somewhat underwhelmed, especially since ticket prices can reach twenty pounds. The programme notes that Dodin’s rehearsals can take “up to five years”, but frankly much of this remains indistinguishable from a high-quality London production. Nonetheless, the Maly theatre cannot be blamed for the hype, and the Oxford public welcomed this like a castaway greeting a sail.

This production is in the language of Chekhov. Russianists will be delighted; the rest will need to keep one eye on the translation flashed onto screens on both sides of the stage.

Chekhov was a writer of paradoxes. Much of the psychological richness of his work emerges from a tension between what is said and what is left unsaid. “I’m plain”, says Sonya. “You’ve got beautiful hair”, replies Ksenia Rappoport’s Elena after a pause. When the Doctor and Elena talk about Sonya’s crush, they are actually discussing their own love. When the Doctor is lecturing her about the local environment, Rappoport lets her gaze fall on his face and hair. Among all the words, actions speak loud. Igor Ivanov’s invalid Professor has his mouth wiped by his wife after taking his medicine. In the final scene he finds her passionately kissing the doctor – and wipes his wife’s mouth with the same simple prop.

Chekhov’s dialogue can often appear caught between naturalism and romanticism. Characters talk and pause as in real life, then speak a poetry of love and loneliness. In less sensitive productions, the shift between the two can be embarrassing; we need to see the changes Rappoport shows us, that can lead a person from laughter to tears. When Petr Semak’s Doctor is asked whether he finds Sonya attractive, the pause before his “No” is exquisite. What Chekhov needs is time and space, and that is what Dodin allows him. His production is a continuum, in which scene changes are taken up with dancing or music, activities that are flexible in time. Like the bored characters on their estate, we do not know how much time has passed. Ckekhov’s world is both interminable and transient.

The action – or inaction – takes place in space, the vast space of Russia. David Borovsky’s masterfully unpretentious set constructs the atmosphere of abandonment in which Chekhov’s characters love and suffer. This approaches, at times, a Russia of the mind, as if Chekhov would have invented this forsaken country if had not been born into it. The estate becomes this ‘Russia’ when the Professor complains, ‘This house is like a maze, 23 vast rooms – you can never find anybody’. And yet somehow the estate is claustrophobic, ‘stifling’. It is the Professor who later insists, ‘Get this lunatic away from me! I can’t stay in this house! He lives right next to me the whole time!’ Appropriately, four huge piles of hay are suspended on rafters above the stage, as if the very play’s mind were clotted with lethargy.

For this is the final irony of the play, that the characters both hate and love each other; more than this, they can exist only individually, and only together. The brilliant performances of Nina Semenova as the Old Nanny and Alexandr Zavialov as ‘Waffles’ urge on us the realization that they have wasted their lives, and that no-one cares. Chekhov’s people are as isolated from each other as the estate is from Moscow or St Petersburg. But ‘You must trust people: life is impossible otherwise’. Elena Kalinina’s Sonya is as wonderfully alive as Dovstoevsky’s, and she insists that it is precisely when nothing seems possible that hope is needed. And so the play ends, affirming the need for faith. Go see it.