Editorial

This week brings with it a branching-out from conventional student theatre. We have sent reviewers to the Welsh National Opera version of The Merry Widow and, even further afield, to a local production of The Mikado on in Abingdon. We think it important that Oxford student theatre is aware of its place in Oxford theatre as a whole, beyond the professional productions in the Playhouse.

True to our desire to only review performances, and not rehearsals, a review of Tom Stoppard’s Travesties, which opens this Thursday, will not be found in the printed edition. Our reviewers will see Thursday’s performances and their thoughts can be found on the website: www.oxfordtheatrereview.co.uk, from Friday morning.

We hope that the website and the printed editions complement each other. If you disagree with one of our reviews, or simply want to comment on a play you have seen, please do register your thoughts with us online. We accept that many different opinions of a performance are possible and that student plays especially can dramatically improve during their run. Comment on the website will hopefully allow us to compensate for the inevitable ‘snapshot’ nature of the reviews in this and future issues.

A review encapsulates at heart the opinion of a single reviewer, and we present them to you as such, based only the information available to the theatre-goer in the stalls. An ever present question when reviewing amateur student shows is how harsh is too harsh? Given the diversity of content and quality in Oxford drama as whole – and in an Issue which encompasses a range from local amateur production to the professionalism of the Playhouse – we believe it is almost impossible to arrive at one universally applicable standard. We aim to pick out what worked, and to highlight what did not, as an honest guide to those on both sides of the curtain. As a publication we welcome and encourage attempts to innovate, both in terms of play selection and directorial approach.

We hope you enjoy Issue 2!

The contributors for this Issue were:

Charlotte Wyatt (The Merry Widow)
Vanessa Garden (Masquerade)
Polly Hunt (The Maids)
Matt Trueman (The Yalta Game)
Martin Goodhead (The Mikado)
Claire Blechman (Travesties)
Jason Millar (Traveties, second review)

It was edited by:

Richard Teverson
Lauren Schwartzman
David Sim

Graphic Design: Claire Greszczuk
Helena Maratheftis

Travesties – Keble O’ Reilly, 7.30pm, 27-29 October

The Keble College Drama Society presents a keen and satisfying version of Tom Stoppard’s Travesties. In a piece with so many disparate themes and references flying about, the Keble actors manage to combine all the best of Joyce, Wilde, Dadaism, art theory, and even Lenin without sounding like that rambling, pretentious Professor you hate because he’s so much smarter than you. That said, Travesties is not for those who nodded off in literature or history classes, as it is set at an unforgiving pace. But those who are along for the ride will find it thoroughly enjoyable.

Travesties is full of towering intellectual characters performed excellently, perhaps the most memorable of which is Max Pritchard’s portrayal of James Joyce. Halfway between a Marx Brother and a marionette, Pritchard commands awe and attention, even when he’s not clowning about or pulling rabbits out of hats. His deadpan delivery of the answer to “What did you do during the war?”cuts through all the peripheral nonsense and gets to the real reason why we revere Joyce: “I wrote Ulysses.”

But if Joyce isn’t your preference, there’s plenty of Oscar Wilde to keep the audience happy on both a witty and slapstick level. The women of the play, while token in the first act, shine in the second with a rhyming tea party. The director (Lotte Wakeham, who also plays Cecily), effectively resists both the temptations to slow the action down so that the audience might feel like they can keep up, and to positively cram the scenes with gimmicks and spectacle. As it was, the library rendezvous succeeded, whereas Joyce’s feats of parlour magic seemed superficial, entertaining as they were.

Similarly, the lighting design showed a discerning vision, if not an overly inventive one. Characters in their moments of supreme literary or revolutionary catharsis were bathed in pinks or oranges, only to be cut off and switched back to harsh white lights. The production values overall took a definite background to the characterization, but this is of course good theatrical practice.

Despite excellent efforts by all involved, Travesties left many of the audience members confiding to each other that they couldn’t follow it. The preliminary reading requirements are absolutely brutal: Dada and performance art, Communist theory, WWI history, and Ulysses recommended, The Importance of Being Earnest positively required. But, if you should be so lucky as to have read in three out of the five (as this reviewer has), then Travesties will be an absolute delight. And if this is not the case, then take comfort in the fact that even audience members who commented that he or she couldn’t follow it all added a caveat of “I liked it anyway.”

Review by Claire Blechman

Travesties – second review

The starting point of Tom Stoppard’s 1974 play is the question: what would happen if Lenin, the Dadaist Tristran Tzara and James Joyce were to coincide in history? Framed by The Importance of Being Earnest, the play gives us a mature Stoppard in command of his talents. Lotte Wakeham’s creative direction is complemented by strong performances and intelligent use of the O’Reilly’s facilities. Wakeham has recognised and overcome the pitfalls of staging Stoppard, and the result is spirited, colourful and entertaining.

The play evolves from the hazy recollections of the central character, Henry Carr, played by Jack Hawkins. The strongest performance of the evening, Hawkins appears relaxed on stage and in command of his space. The first-night audience took some time to warm to the play, but Hawkins is compelling and delivers Stoppard’s dialogue crisply with excellent timing. He often commands the stage alone and scarcely put a foot wrong, although he conveys frivolity better than seriousness, and is prone to overacting the darker moments.

The first act is dominated by Carr’s interaction with Tristan Tzara, whose nihilistic belief in the pointlessness of art is juxtaposed with Carr’s own sense of the purpose of the artist: ‘to beautify existence’. This makes for some wonderful Wildean one-liners and a genuinely thought-provoking debate of what Art is, and whether it has a purpose. Max Pritchard’s James Joyce intervenes throughout the play and is performed with a nod to Jim Carrey and barbershop humour, neatly brought out by the magic tricks, extravagantly mismatched dress and comedy Irish accent. Unfortunately, although the accent contributes to the comedy, it is not very clear and Stoppard’s slick dialogue often becomes unintelligible. The same can be said of Dan Proctor’s Russian accent, although his brief performance is memorable.

Gwendolyn and Cecily are pilfered from Wilde’s play and are utterly charming. Their one solo scene on set, towards the end of the second Act, is full of verve and panache, and had the first night audience clapping during the Act. What is truly gratifying about the play as a whole is that it does not underestimate the intelligence of its audience, even if the Wildean wit is better received than Stoppard’s quirkier humour.

Christopher Nairne, lightning designer, has exploited the lighting box excellently to enhance a minimalist stage which might be accused of being amateurish but, given the three-night run, is perfectly adequate. Carr in the present is lit by a sepia light, and the enaction of his memories generally takes place under a fully lit stage. The play is formally complex, but the use of the cuckoo clock to indicate a reversion to a previous point in the dialogue at a different point in time is inspired, clear and helpful without interfering with the dynamic of the performances.

Although there are – sadly – only two more days to catch Travesties, it looks like it may be among the most worthy of the term.

The Merry Widow – New Theatre, 7.15pm, 24-29 October ….(in rep with The Barber of Seville and Don Carlos)

Since the university computer network now restricts visits to pornography websites, the rampant rampages of The Merry Widow’s third act are certainly somewhat of a surprise to the system! Lehar’s operetta contains the typical attributes of a late 19th Century operetta- lots of singing, dancing… and boobs. The love story with political and gender issues is portrayed extremely well by the Welsh National Opera. However, it seems unusual that a light-hearted comedy should become a three hour epic.

The WNO chose to set the operetta in English instead of German. Lesley Garrett stars as protagonist Hannah Glawari, who has recently become a rather rich widow. Hannah wants to marry a Parisian, and the Pontevedrian embassy believe Danilo (Jeffrey Black) to be a rather suitable match, because that way the money remains in Pontevedro (Hannah’s homeland). The singers and musicians are outstanding and extremely professional, despite the occasional minor intonation or balance problems; Hannah’s traditional folk tale at the start of the second act is particularly captivating.

Obviously one does not expect, nor does one receive, the stereotypical ‘first night’ problems with this professional touring opera company. The operetta is split into three acts; the sets change correspondingly. All costumes were colourful and grand, but Lesley Garrett’s ‘little numbers’ and hair designs put most of the others to shame!

The audience tended to prefer the second and third acts to the first, but perhaps this was because after the numerous characters and their political situations had been explained, the ‘love action’ began to take place. The portrayal of love was somewhat farcical (as to be expected from operetta in general). However, there were some genuinely romantic moments, which were further emphasised by lone instruments lyrically ‘singing’ along with the soloists as the couples danced in the moonshine.

The Merry Widow was more of a musical than an opera, with much dialogue and dancing. The enigma of ‘men being different to women’ was slightly over-exaggerated and despite the opera lasting a whole of three hours, the happy ending seemed to occur rather abruptly. The full house appeared to have found the performance ‘fair’, but that it was not better received seemed due to the storyline, rather than to the actual players. The WNO are also performing The Barber of Seville and Don Carlos in rep this week at the Oxford New Theatre. A similarly high standard is expected.

Masquerade – Oxford Playhouse, 7.30pm, 24-29 October

A dazzling piece of visual splendour and haunting pathos, Masquerade is not only a beautifully written play but an affirmation of faith in the theatrical experience as a whole. A simple fairy tale plot is the basis for exploring the limits of humanity and the power of that most potent emotion, jealousy: Cinderella meets Othello. However, the tragedy that arises from a case of mistaken identity at a masked ball is undercut with moments of dark, even grotesque, humour and displays of joy which reveal director Rimas Tuminas’ final belief in hope triumphing over despair. We are swept up in the carnivalesque waltz and carried relentlessly to the inevitable conclusion but at the end can only feel uplifted.

On entering the auditorium we are greeted with a black circular curtain in place of the usual red tabs. When this rises to begin the action we see that the set is wholly circular, reminiscent of a circus top and adding to our sense of the spectacle. The stage is snow covered; a marble tomb and statue the only set. The blue-grey lighting captures the peculiar brightness of a snowy day. Into this scene The Little Man, or servant, (Andrius Zebrauskas) appears, dancing playfully in the snow. We soon learn that there is to be a masked ball that night, and the stage is swiftly filled with wildly swirling ladies and gentlemen, dancing to a waltz that is a mixture of balletic grandeur and the imperial decadence of Tsarist Russia. The plot is folkloric and simple – the prince is given a bracelet by a masked woman whom he vows to track down. The bracelet belongs to Nina but was picked up by a Baroness; Nina’s husband assumes it was her seducing the prince and, in a nihilistic rage of jealousy, she poisons her.

However, it would be a mistake to imagine that the simplicity of the plot makes for cardboard characters. Tuminas explores the psychological motivations for the behaviour of his characters through their physical gestures. Vytautus Rumsas’ engaging prince is excitable; his youthful naïveté expressed through his leaps and bounds across the stage, and in his habit of repeatedly tripping up in the snow. He contrasts with Nina’s elderly husband Arbenin (Arvydas Dapsys) who skulks and broods at the very edges of the stage, his dissatisfaction with life leading him to despair .

Arbenin’s hopelessness is not the message of the play. The humour is often grotesque, and is shot through with the overpowering realisation that we are laughing at the little absurdities of life. The piece is heavily reliant on mime for its humour, and it is highly physical – The Little Man, the chief proponent of the comedy, is very much a Charlie Chaplin, flinging himself around the stage or being booted by others. There are many moments of glorious silent fun, one of the best being a Hitchcockian set piece with a corpse that refuses to stay buried.

The play is a visual feast, not only in the whirling frenzy of the dancing but in the multitude of minute symbolic touches. The most spectacular symbol is the snowball that serves as a reminder that events are increasingly out of control, yet it remains an object of play and fun. This simple display of joy in a childlike pleasure has the final word in Tuminas’ exploration of humanity. The end of the play jars slightly, as we see a tableau of Nina’s statue-like corpse and the Little Man dancing in the snow again but set against a haunting recording of Nina singing; the manic waltz music might have left a stronger impression of its paradoxical role as provider of delight and instrument of tragedy which are the focus of the play.

It is in Lithuanian – the supertitles are sensibly projected onto the backdrop of the set which is a more natural eyeline than ninety degrees above the stage but unfortunately there were technical hitches on the first night which meant that they were almost entirely obscured for much of the first act. This was a shame, because although the plot is simple and the physicality of the acting makes it easy to follow, the translation we were able to see was beautifully poetic, especially with regard to the speeches of Arbenin, and added an extra layer to an already extraordinary production.

The Small State Theatre of Vilnius have been producing for over a decade now and were the first municipal theatre in Lithuania – they are committed to producing original work that is simple and powerful and have certainly succeeded with this production of Masquerade. The immense theatricality of the whole night left the audience on a high and proved what power high-quality drama can have. This is a chance you really must not miss.

Review by Vanessa Garden

Issue 2 | Have your say here

We saw this on Friday

We saw this on Friday evening and thought it magical!
We were, however, very surprised that the theatre was by no means full, possibly just more than half the seats were taken. This is a great pity. My only regret is that we can’t see more of their work in the very near future and I hope they will be back with something equally wonderful as soon as possible.

The Maids – BT Early slot, 25-29 October

This production of The Maids promised us fantasy, sex and action, seeking to draw the audience into the deranged world of Claire and Solange – sisters, maids and lovers – and their mistress. The production was accomplished, but in places ordinary. The energy of the play was sustained on such a level that it tired the audience out, and sexual tension seemed to give way to violence too easily. Focus could have been tighter and greater subtlety employed, but the acting was on the whole good, and the dynamic of the actors certainly carried the show.

The two maids played off against each other’s bite and reticence in turn, with seamless power shifts between them in the first half, and a darkly comic double-act appearing during the encounter with their mistress in the second. However, despite the promise of the subdued and painstakingly detailed acting of Helen Winston (Claire) as the audience entered the theatre, the intensity and projection of both women occasionally erred to melodrama, creating some restlessness within the audience.

Nevertheless, Winston looked comfortable in her role as Claire, playing her moments of understatement particularly well. A nice touch was Winston’s use of the dressing table mirror through which she reflected Claire mimicking the mistress. Serena Martin (Solange) was less fluid in her transitions of mood, but played extremes of her character well, holding a commanding presence in anger and fading to a timid sycophant by turns.

Jamie Gaw generally carried the air of a haughty mistress well. She was well set against the two maids in terms of physical stature and elegance, but failed to translate this into a completely commanding stage presence – somewhat undermining her character’s power. In part this was a failure of direction – her hands were often simply clasped to her chest and her pacing seemed occasionally contrived and ungrounded.

The direction succeeded in harnessing the difficulties of the space. A balcony was created using fabric and lighting, giving the impression of the outdoors – a difficult feat to achieve within the confines of the Burton Taylor stage. The interior set, filled with luxuries, showed impressive attention to detail. The lack of an adequate backstage area (a perennial obstacle to BT shows) undercut the power of a climatic scene which required the two maids to disappear down into the kitchen – which instead involved them clambering past the audience to hide in a small flat behind the back row. Despite this, the claustrophobic feeling of a full theatre underlined the desperate mood of the maids, living out their equally enclosed and constrained fantasies in a set laden with all the necessaries of a life of luxury.

Review by Polly Hunt

The Yalta Game – BT, Late slot, 25-29 October

The Yalta Game has found itself a wonderful home in the Burton Taylor. The intimate setting helps to build a relationship between characters and audience; it enhances a well-created lazy atmosphere and allows a touching subtlety to emerge through small-scale gestures. Overall, however, there is nothing that stands out as exceptional, and little that lingers long in the mind after the show is over.

Brian Friel’s take on the Chekhov short story, ‘Lady with Lapdog’, has a certain literary charm. It is the story of an affair in 1899 Russia, between the middle-aged Dmitry (Conal McLean) and the wistfully youthful Anna (Cicely Hayward), that begins over coffee in the seaside resort of Yalta.

Atmosphere is the production’s triumph. A soft and hollow melody is repeated in Jessica Danheisser’s original cello score, lingering and lonely. When the couple are together, a warm, hazy light spreads throughout the space, complimenting the sail-like cream backdrop to evoke a lazy, humid summer’s afternoon. This is simply but effectively contrasted with their times apart, in which a coldness and a lack of feeling pervade. It is all so nearly ruined by the seemingly random and unexplained interruptions by noises that seem lifted from the computer game Pong. The point of these noises is never made clear and, as such, they merely irritate.

The subtlety realised in the lighting spills over into the two performances. Both McLean and Hayward use their voices superbly, switching between a hypnotic smoothness and a matter of fact lightness when addressing the audience. Words are coloured to perfection, and both are comfortable to indulge the play’s slow pace.

Physically, however, the performances slightly miss the mark. Mimed props are never quite consistent; McLean’s Dmitry seems not quite confident enough in his charming eccentricity, and Hayward’s Anna remains at the same level throughout. However, directors Laura Noiret and Philip Harker Smith have created some lovely moments: McLean’s face lights up with more sparkle than Oxford Street during Advent, and the less physical of the intimate moments between the pair are wonderfully touching. With Anna draped in Dmitry’s oversized blazer and ensnared in his arms, the pair make an entirely convincing couple.

Sadly, as a result of the thrust stage, half the audience misses many of these moments. While the proximity adds to the intimacy, too often those at the sides were forced to crane necks awkwardly, as embraces were faced inwards and too far downstage. Ultimately, it’s an enjoyable hour, but not a gripping one. If you like your theatre as Dmitry likes his women “light-hearted souffle adventures” The Yalta Game won’t thrill, but it may just leave a warm glow.

Review by Matt Trueman

The Mikado – Amey Theatre Abingdon, 7.30pm, 24-29 October

There is much to be said for escaping from the endless Stoppard revivals, cookie-cutter Shakespeare productions and self consciously arty sub-Brechtian fare. Is local theatre a refreshing alternative or simply a generally unimaginative and conservative forum for mainstream plays? I came to this production of that old standard, Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado, my curiosity tempered by trepidation. What approach, precisely, would they take to this well known production, one which seldom gets staged in Oxford but inevitably does the rounds of local amateur reps the country over?

The first thing to note is that the cast, including a fairly substantial chorus/dancing line, tended to be older than I’d seen in previous productions. One exception was Yum Yum, well played with a bashful vigour without being overly saccharine, yet it took a larger degree of dramatic suspension to credit her two accompanying friends with anything resembling Maidenhood. The flirtation and wooing scenes were choreographed energetically enough, but Nanki Poo looked rather too world-worn to convince as the idealist young lover and within the spoken segments he tended towards a nasal whine.

At the heart of the Mikado lies Ko Ko, the ineffectual, wheedling comic figure, a reluctant Lord High Executioner made of paper and straw, and thankfully after a muted start and several missed cues he recovered, partly justifying amateur drama’s favoured maxim, ‘At least it’s entertaining’. There’s a reasonable comic dynamic too between Ko Ko and Pooh Bah, his accomplice and verbal sparring-partner and the keeper of half the official offices in Japan, although some of the lyrics were lost in their sung exchanges.

This production aspires to something beyond the traditional village hall environment and the design values bear testament to these pretensions. However, the professional veneer, along with the steep ticket price, leave the Mikado open to judgment on terms closer to ‘proper’ productions, and by these standards it lacks any distinguishing, novel conceptualisation; in fact it lacks any spark of originality in its staging except the addition of several fairly broad modern-day cultural references. The lightly satirical themes of the play, concerning bureaucracy and corruption, still resonate but no attempt has been made to do anything creative concerning transposing and modernising the setting. That the work is played largely for knock-about farce and derives most of its humour from broad nudges, glances and innuendo, though reasonably effective, demonstrates the limitations of its vision.

As entertainment, it’s fairly accomplished but it lacks either the charm of small scale productions or the benefits of professional acting and directing. In the end I found myself craving a little less gloss and a little more ingenuity, but reasonably impressed overall.

Review by Martin Goodhead