Drama
Why stage an ancient Greek play, of which only fragments remain, and which has never before been performed in English? This vibrant and frequently hilarious production of Menander's The Shield demands that this question be revised: why has it not been staged before?
Translated by Giles Evans, The Shield is a farcical comedy of manners. Returning from war, Daos (Philip Contos) mourns the death of his master, Cleostratus, but as the Puck-like fairy, Miss Fortune - played with mischievous zest by Rose Pater - informs us, this is not a tragedy, and his master is not dead.
The company of actors is small, but energetic and versatile. Minimalist stage design and doubling-up of roles accentuate the tight, focused quality of the production, which sustains and accelerates the momentum so crucial to good farce.
Purists may be disappointed by director Katherine Eddy's decision not to use facemasks in the comedy. However, the wild facial contortions of the actors intensify the atmosphere of burlesque chaos as they bounce around the stage. The absence of masks also endows the play's quieter moments with a sympathetic, human tone, in balanced contrast to the rambunctious farce. Alexandra Fielding and Emrys Jones make an impressive double-act as both bawdy lovers and grotesque elders.
The Shield is simultaneously modern, antique and timeless. Indeed, the shield of war is a dustbin lid, symbolising the vast gulf that one would imagine exists between the drama of Menander's time and our own.
This play smashes that myth, as a riotous comedy that converges with the ancient orthodoxies of theatre as much as it builds on them.
Undoubtedly one of the more unorthodox offerings from the Oxford Greek Festival, the world premiere of The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig delivers on a number of levels.
This inversion of the instantly recognisable children's classic was originally a bestselling book by Greek author Eugene Trivizas, and has been skilfully adapted for the stage by Aria Sandis in an exuberant production.
Trivizas confronts our stereotyped, outdated and simplistic ideas of the good and the bad in a tale that is thoughtful and humorous in equal measure.
Where in the original, strength is represented by a retreat into progressively stronger structures, characterised by exclusion, isolation, distrust and prevention of communication, in this radical subversion the wolves finally contrive to construct a fragile house made from fragrant flowers, seducing and transforming the big bad pig with their sweet smell into a peaceful and jolly fellow.
The authentic set adds to the sense of the audience being happily incarcerated in a jolly prison of laughter. I screamed with joyful pain as each humour-filled nail was sadistically hammered into my hearty coffin of laughter. Masochism has never been so fun! A star for each wolf, and one for the Big Bad Pig.
Don't be perturbed by the crude title - Alan Bennet's Kafka's Dick is an intelligent play, sensitively rendered by its cast and crew. Its plot pivots on the semi-fictional relationship between Kafka (Simon Motz) and his friend and later editor Max Brod (Tom Eyre-Maunsell).
Brod promises on Kafka's insistence to burn all of his works when he dies - and subsequently doesn't. Then, in a contemporary, standard home, Sydney (Kieran Wanduragala), a world Kafka expert, his wife Linda (Juliet Lough) and his father (Tristam Neal) witness Brod and Kafka's posthumous reunion.
This production delights in the script's absurdity, but it is clever too. Through Kafka's unwitting transformation from insurance clerk to leading figure of European literature, the directors (Sophie Buchan and Sara Carroll) examine what happens when artists become detached from their work; when art enters the purely public domain. Central to this is the anxious figure of Kafka, deeply uncomfortable with having his work read, appraised and, finally, institutionalized: "I'm not even synonymous with my name anymore".
Despite several staples - the Yorkshire setting, tragic-comedy, the tedium of suburbia and its soft furnishings - the audience is not on familiar Bennet territory here.
The direction is generous and each performance is rich and sincere, though this is sometimes at the expense of the sharpness of dialogue.
Kafka's Dick is thought provoking, but gently so, and for this reason is an excellent night out for any overworked member of the Oxford intelligentsia.
Oxford drama lovers may well find themselves tempted by the tantalising prospect of Kafka's Dick this week. But surely, a greater pleasure is to be found lurking 'down there', in Wadham's subterranean Moser Theatre, in a celebration of all things vaginal.
The Vagina Monologues are performed here by six women who seek to dispel any lingering trace of shame or embarrassment associated with that defining article of womanhood: the vagina.
Speaking forcefully and moving purposefully around the stage, the six introduce us to the political message of the production directly. Coy innuendos are thrown toward us incredulously: 'pussy cat', 'cootchie', 'down there'.
Theatrically, the case for linguistic decolonialism is well put.
These women are talking about vaginas.
But feminist polemic is only a part of The Vagina Monologues. Based on the testimony of real women, these monologues are imbued with a palpable humanity with which we can all empathise to some degree, man or woman.
The minimal set design emphasises this; the focus here is on human experience laid bare.
Some of these experiences make us laugh with delight. A female sex worker (Jennifer Barton), who worked to please other women, gives a scarily realistic performance of several varieties of female orgasm, and leaves you wondering what all the fuss was about in When Harry Met Sally. Others contain real pathos, such as Cliodhna McAllister's embarrassed 72-year-old who tells us "I haven't been down there since 1953".
But the experience that lingers longest in the mind is that of a Bosnian refugee (Lyn Guerra), a woman gang-raped by soldiers for seven days and brutally assaulted with a rifle barrel.
It seems appropriate, then, that all profits from this production go to V-Day, a charity for women who have suffered violence.
Trojan Women is a play about the cyclical nature of war; a tale of the downfall of a city; a tribute to the plight of refugees and prisoners of war; a celebration of the power of the female spirit in the face of adversity. Written in 415BC, the play has since triumphed on international stages, especially when presented as a weapon of protest and reaction during the wars and conflicts of the 20th century. Now, after 9/11 and the subsequent international conflicts, I believe Trojan Women continues to be a powerful medium for expressing political opinion on the stage.
The play's relevance to the issues of our time is undeniable. However, instead of setting the play in a recognisable and contemporary war zone such as Afghanistan or Iraq, we have chosen to set the production in a uniquely designed world, a bleak devastated space, inhabited now only by women and a few remaining Greek soldiers. The costumes of the women are colourful, reflecting a mixed influence of African and Asian ceremonial dress and the classical draped look.
In the process of conceiving this production, I have emphasised the effect of binding, constriction, and enslavement on the strength of a woman, the different representative female voices, and the power of collective ritual to heal and provide strength. I have also used spectacle to provide continuity and energy in the text. For example, Hecuba, representative of Mother Earth, has, in a defiant gesture, dug herself into the ground to be closer to her dead kin. In this way, as the women struggle with their constrictive elements, they demonstrate both the stubborn resistance of the human spirit and the nobility with which they endure their humiliations.
The chorus of Trojan women is integral to this aim as they offer a sense of community and express reactions to their miserable situation through dance and rituals, including a 'dressing ritual' in which the women help each other put on their regal ceremonial costumes including head-dresses and facial tattoos.
I hope that that this production offers a unique interpretation of an ancient play, an interpretation born and bred in this age, and most importantly helps to explain the effects of war from the perspective of women.
Les Fourberies de Scapin by Moliere, Wadham Moser 11th -15th May, 7.30pm
Parthenon Lost by Constantine Sandis, Oxford Union, 9th May, 2.30pm
Antigone by Jean Anouilh, Keble O'Reilly Theatre, 11th - 14th May, 7.30pm
A Midsummer Night's Dream, New College Cloisters 13th - 15th May, 8pm, 16th May 3pm
6th May 2004