Bedroom Farce is a light comedy, centred on sexual pairings and combinations of characters as they move through improbable plots and slamming doors, it is perhaps the most common form of farce.

Before the wake of the performance, the audience was presented with three beds, each providing a keyhole-insight into the lives of three couples. Delia and Ernest’s traditional, meticulously tidy abode complete with iron framed bed is situated stage left; the more modern, suburban bedroom of Nick and Jan on the right; and the chaotic, dishevelled, unmade bedroom belonging to Kate and Malcolm takes central position. The latter’s clothing, bedding and appliance-strewn dwelling provided the focal point of the stage, forecasting the disorder to come.

The catalyst to the plot, however, arrives in the shape of a fourth couple and their deteriorating relationship: the endearingly neurotic Susanna and subsequently posh, depressed and exhausted Trevor, both brilliantly acted and supplied many golden moments. Action circled around Kate and Malcolm’s impending housewarming party, of which we never see but is continually referenced in the dialogue. Indeed, the heart of Bedroom Farce’s intelligence lies not in the obvious or overstated, but the ‘backstage’ scenes behind parties and growing crevices in everyday conversations. Its comedic strength lies in its juxtaposition between exultation of the mundane and ordinary with absurd and often dark overtones.

As scenes cleverly flip from and merge between rooms, the subtle intricacy of the complicated web woven between characters soon becomes evident. This was articulated most successfully in Lauren Watters, Delia, and James Duckworth, Ernest, evocation of the elderly couple. Ernest was suitably jovial and conservative, Delia assuring and habitually sweet-natured. The pair provided many of the production’s most humorous moments, at once illustrating a seemingly aged sexual tension only to culminate in an endearing conversation about sardines on toast in bed.

The farcical aspect of the production was a little hit and miss in its execution. At the beginning, the comedic element of Kate and Malcolm’s sweetly humdrum relationship seemed a little forced and stilted, but gradually gained near perfect pace and eloquence toward mid-performance. This also applies to Nick and Jan’s tension-fuelled yet discreetly affectionate act. Having said this, a real sense of the character’s history was established between Jan and Trevor, made all the more believable in a forced and intense kiss. The eternally bed-ridden Nick was deemed helpless and grumpy in his inability to physically react to the events around him, although the convincingness of his vulnerability was at times debatable. Susanna, Gabrielle Stewart, triumphantly drove the drama forward with her anxiously repetitive mutterings and ludicrous reactions.

Overall, Bedroom Farce was a highly enjoyable and well performed production that lived up to its name, leading the audience through turmoil of heartbreak, bitterness and uncertainty to conclude in a mutual settlement and prospective healing of these relationships.

The Drama Barn resembles a hybrid between nuclear bunker and rural outshed. The floor is strewn with hay, buckets and wooden crates line the outskirts of the stage and the audience’s attention is immediately drawn towards a noose hanging in the centre; the American pilot (convincingly performed by Eoin Connolly in an unwavering accent) is sat facing it with bloodied uniform and clearly broken leg. It seemed that the chosen stage arrangement would foreshadow the shortcomings.

This noose goes on to act as a podium for each character and their place within the on-going power struggle that formulates ‘The American Pilot’. Sarah strokes it maternally, Evie treats it as a swing and The Trader at climbs it in a momentary money-fuelled high. This play on supremacy and control is made relevant in today’s society by exploring America’s intervention in the surrounding world. After an American pilot has crashed into a foreign and alien land, his destiny is placed in the hands of the formerly powerless surrounding him.

Roles are reversed here as ‘Big Bully America’ becomes the tortured outnumbered and precedence is given to the Captain (Sam Hinton) and Translator (Ed Duncan Smith). The deliberate mistranslation of language between the Pilot and other characters presents itself as a clear parody of international war correspondence in contemporary society.

This misunderstanding is a dichotomy of endearing as well as frustratingly tense, made all the more believable by the cast’s superb acting. The Captain is at times made farcical by his own ignorance and egotism: Hinton’s deliverance of “Everywhere I go, I wear sunglasses” had the audience roaring and eager for more; his contrasting brutality became harrowing.

Evie’s innocence and determined optimism – captured by the soft voice and youthful movements of Cat Smith – became a comforting foil to the violence around her. Pilot managed to evoke sympathy. All actors demonstrated the multi-faceted dimensions of their characters: Duncan Smith’s Translator was at first maliciously power-hungry, only to be revealed his weaknesses and motives for his actions later; Sarah was suitably nurturing yet pained and the audience couldn’t help but empathise with the utterly powerless situation the Farmer (Mark Smith) had been placed in.

Occasionally the seating layout meant that it was difficult for the actors not to turn their back on areas of the audience, clouding their expressions and the action. An abrupt ending after a lengthily drawn-out unravelling of characters came as unexpected; but this is down to the complexity of the plot structure as opposed to the acting or direction, and is perhaps the point as by this technique the finale was made the more poignantly – and suddenly – heart-rending.

Those who didn’t manage to catch the maturity and complexity of this outstanding performance truly missed out.

With the prospective expansion of our campus to Heslington East and our intake of 2008 freshers almost doubling last year’s, it seems illogical for the local council to restrict areas of student housing. Badger Hill – one of the closest havens to campus and hence amid the most popular of areas – recently issued its petition against student ‘flooding’.

Residents of Heslington and Fulford have also pressured the council to give priority to locals in what has been termed a ‘Local Development Framework’. Furthermore, we are not the only students in York; the council governed curb of student residential areas would mean York St John, the College of Law and York College would all also be affected.

Being in a small historic city means that we are already under a certain amount of residential strain, particularly when compared to Universities in big cities such as Manchester. Being in the first year, we had to cajole our group of housemates together as early as the first term and continue to scavenge for something suitable that doesn’t resemble a pimp shack or a leaking barn with no central heating. This does not mean to say that student accommodation in the city of York is appalling. It is, on the whole, very reasonable in price and quality, just that it is already relatively limited in quantity. Every fresher is in the same situation here, whilst friends at other universities don’t give a second thought to the issue until the summer.

The business of looking for a house in the second year brings fresh excitement, but also a range of frustrations and stress. Will a flux in available housing force us into an even greater flurry as we fight tooth and nail for decent housing which isn’t miles from campus? Any drastic change may also mean unnecessary pressure on the University to accommodate second and third years on campus.

I admit that, on the whole, students aren’t a very popular bunch. Memories of the Gallery DJ pausing in-between tracks to call those listening a load of “tax-dodging bastards” – only to insist that he meant it in jest – springs to mind. Yes, we can be noisy on occasion; yes, some of us tend to show ignorance of local community, choosing instead to immerse ourselves in the duck-filled concrete ‘bubble’ that governs our lives; and yes, Mr. Gallery-DJ, you’re right in that we don’t pay taxes… just yet. But these are generalisations. There are as many of us that are polite and unobtrusive as there are otherwise and we too will eventually become tax-paying members of the public.

It is public displays of pettiness such as the Badger Hill petition that aggravates me to start a government appeal of my own in an attempt to curtail the stereotype of ourselves harboured by the prejudiced. Local councillor Ceredig Jamieson-Ball is an ex-York University student himself and though it is his duty to react to complaints of the local population, surely the answer here is not to evacuate students from crucially needed campus suburbs but to tackle the roots of the problems themselves? I urge York City Council to think about their decision and I cannot stress enough our right to maintain our residence in ‘student’ areas.

The Drama Society’s production of Steven Berkoff’s Metamorphosis, directed by Alex Wright and originally performed in Week Three, has been chosen to perform in the Scarborough-based festival.
The decision comes just weeks after the Art’s Council reversed a judgement to cut the festival’s funding – a decision that would have rendered the future of the event in jeopardy.

The festival, running from the 15th to the 21st of March, showcases some of the finest examples of student drama in the country. DramaSoc Chair, Jamie Wiles, said that “this production has been successful in the highly competitive selection process for the National Student Drama Festival.”
“Every year, professional selectors see over 150 shows to decide the ten best to be performed, Metamorphosis is one of those ten,” he added.

Each production will be viewed by an audience of , professional directors, national artists and students.

This is the third year running that DramaSoc has been successful in the NSDF’s selection process. Last year, William Bowry took a Stone Cold Dead Serious to the festival.

Campus events can provide a refreshing alternative to the monotonous weekly spiel of Toffs-then-Ziggys-followed-by-Gallery, (or as a bit on the side for the seriously sociable). Until recently, Derwent boasted the college event crown by hosting its infamous ‘Club D’: one very small venue dressed in a series of guises – ‘Chav D’, ‘Club D’ and ‘Christmas D’ making an appearance in this year alone. But now Vanbrugh has become a contesting rival in the playing field of student lash, with its website claiming to congregate “the biggest and best events on campus” by converting its canteen hall into a fully established club for one night a month.

Whether one college acts as a better host than the other is debatable. Faithful Derwenters and those with a penchant for fancy dress will call Club D their home whilst Vanbrugh students are likely to assert their inclination towards UV strobe lighting. College spirit aside, the venue used by each college has been a contributing factor in atmosphere. Many have commented on how Derwent’s smaller setting for its club nights actually creates a better atmosphere than the ‘school disco’ feeling cultivated in Vanbrugh’s vacuous hall. In terms of theme, it depends upon what appeals to the individual. Derwent offers a wide-ranging and imaginative scope for dressing up, giving students the opportunity to transform themselves into a chav one week and don the angel Gabriel the next. Vanbrugh seems to have taken a slightly more explicit approach with ‘heaven and hell’ and the controversial ‘Porno V’ armed with bucking-bronco penises. Regardless of how entertaining Club D or V is independently or in relation to the other, campus events would be more limiting if only one option existed; hence the spirit or variety (and a mild dose of rivalry) should be embraced.

Of course, the two colleges are not the only source of campus debauchery, with Goodricke, James, Alcuin and Halifax each having an occasional chip in. It can generally be agreed that campus events can be welcoming as a night that requires less ‘effort’ than one spent in town: it’s less extortionate as drinks are cheaper, no money needs to be spent on a taxi and the pressure of looking conventionally ‘smart’ can diminish somewhat. There is a sense of security that derives from a more casual night out on campus with the knowledge that you will be surrounded by those that you know as opposed to the odd lecherous character who thought crashing the student night at gallery would be a good idea. From an ethical slant, it’s nice to be safe in the knowledge that the money you’re spending on a university event is likely to be going towards a charity or RAG. On the other hand, a night out in town or Leeds has more guarantee of being wild, with clubs closing at a later time and offering a wider range of music (although cheese seems to reign supreme in York on and off campus).

Like them or not, York should continue to house and promote student events to create a sense of student community, and give them something to do on the weekend bar raving it up in the library. ‘Fun’ is down to each individuals outlook – it seems ridiculous to dismiss one college as being less entertaining than another in event organisation, just as it is to claim that a student is more likely to have a good time in one accommodation than its neighbour. We all live in a concrete duck-filled nightmare, let us celebrate this fact in togas and school-discotheque venues!

The diverted funds will instead be focused on “increasing participation in high quality arts” by subsidising permanent public buildings, such as the West Yorkshire Playhouse, and funding “top-quality” touring companies and theatres with education programmes that “support the changing nature of theatre.”

In response, an online petition was set up to protest the Council’s decision. Although now closed, it attracted more than 3,300 signatures, and was promoted by leading members of the York Drama Soc. Jamie Wilkes, Drama Soc Chair, expressed anxiety at the University’s lack of commitment to funding its societies, in particular those focused on the arts. “Serious respect was paid towards NSDF last year, whilst with normal, run-of-the-mill productions they don’t care. They’re happy to flatten the Barn and put up some accommodation blocks.”

Wilkes also claimed that the University doesn’t recognise the potential of its celebrated societies in attracting students. “The role of drama is important here. I came here because of the drama society. They’re missing out on a great opportunity to sell something and they should recognise that,” he said.
The NSDF has supported student drama for 53 years, and productions go on to receive national attention, which Wilkes describes as “a great opportunity to give student drama the respect it deserves.”

The final decision on the grant withdrawl will be revealed at a board meeting on January 25.

From day one of Freshers’ Week, I was the laughing stock of engineers and computer scientists for the comparative lack of contact hours on my course. For some, more lecture hours somehow equates to working harder, yet every student at York is expected to put the same number of hours – lecture, seminar and personal study – into their course.

Nevertheless, there are valid reasons for the variation in lecture hours. It is given that an English Literature student needs more essay and reading time than a Physician. However, I know many arts students would gladly swap a third of the turgid photocopy packs doled out at the beginning of term for another three hours of contact time involving the same content.

York is no exception to this rule. Students at Durham, Nottingham and Warwick have all complained of wild variations in course hours. At Bristol last year, History students campaigned for more contact hours. Their claim was that arts subjects were being financially constrained in order to fund the sciences. I can’t help but sympathise with their protest. Reading is all very well, but I wonder why my subject isn’t receiving funding for more lectures and seminar discussion time. We should be paying for an education from leading academics, not for a library membership.

As my tutor pointed out in a seminar, “You get out what you put in.” The focus for arts degrees seems to be emphasis on personal study. I did not arrive at University hoping to doss around, and I speak on behalf of every BA student when I say that our lack of contact hours is not our fault, or choice. Although five hours of contact with academics may be fairly ridiculous, we are justly given a lot to do in-between. As long as we don’t feel as if we are wasting our time here, then there should be no overt reason to rock the boat. Or at least not too hard.