Yet this is not a play merely depicting an escapist dreamscape, it is also a haunting and deeply moving meditation on the nature of mental illness. Neilson expresses a wish to bring the “spectacle” back to theatre, and whilst the overwhelming hyperbole of the West End is not to everyone’s taste, to dismiss the element of entertainment in a performance is, perhaps, to have a limited view of ‘serious’ theatre. In an age where audiences are fought for alongside film and television it is time to “reclaim the spectacle of ideas, of form, of passion”; Neilson is candid in his view that as a production “we owe the audience”.

One of The Wonderful World of Dissocia’s greatest accomplishments is its ability to deal with “serious subject matter through songs and jokes” and leave the audience both crying with laughter and even real tears, such is the nature of this desperately moving piece. This feat is achieved by Neilson’s structure; the play is one of two utterly polarised halves. Whilst the first is our joint adventure with the protagonist ‘Lisa’ as we journey through the friendly and brutal aspects of Dissocia, the concluding half of the play explores what Neilson describes as a “deadening process”.

We move as far as is possible from the extremities of Dissocia and join Lisa in reality, that of her stark, hospitalised existence. It is only through the juxtaposition of these two locations and the acute transformation of Lisa’s company that the audience’s pleasure in her exploits in Dissocia evolves into an intense empathy for her and the frustration that accompanies her situation. Although the production is multifaceted in the possible interpretations it draws, it does most certainly raise the question of “why some resist taking medication”.

Whilst Dissocia does explore this concern, Neilson is quick to clarify that the play is by no means “a debate” but “an insight into how (Lisa) might feel”. Part of the satisfaction of watching the play is its reluctance to provide any conclusive answers. Neilson is wary of “narrow” productions that are perhaps too “issue based” and indeed it is refreshing to experience something that engages with controversial subject matter and yet seemingly has no agenda. Arguably, to explore the subject of mental illness is to enter an arena which can provide no concrete answers, such is the “subjectivity of one person’s experience”. The audience lives through the very fantastical journey of Lisa; in consequence most of the bizarre rituals and outrageous encounters of Dissocia are a perverse amalgamation of features and experiences of her life. Simultaneous to this subjective adventure, the play displays scope and broadens to incorporate an entire spectrum of influences with the subtle absorption of Lewis Carroll, The Wizard of Oz and even psychedelic ‘70s furnishings.

Equally, comedy plays a central role; it really is a laugh out loud performance with elements of Monty Python and even the Marx brothers. Neilson is an artistic associate of the National Theatre of Scotland (NTS) and it is with this company that the production is currently touring. Originally written and co-produced for the 2004 Edinburgh International Festival, such has been the sensational critical success that the play has been revived this year. It is one of the most original and affecting pieces of theatre I have experienced and I urge you to witness this hilarious, beautiful and thought-provoking piece for yourselves.

Blame is a new play premiering at the York Theatre Royal, written by the critically-acclaimed duo of writer and broadcaster Beatrix Campbell and social worker and commentator Judith Jones. Following their first play, And All the Children Cried they have turned their attentions to the decline of the British working class; in particular, the crisis of child poverty in ‘a biting exposé of Britain’s new underclass’.

The play is a part of ‘the renaissance of political theatre’, and with a recent United Nations report putting Britain at the bottom of a list of 21 countries on child welfare, the time has come for people to take notice of these issues. When questioned on the role of the media as a protagonist in this crisis, Beatrix raised the undeniably common view that “the poor are a class to be maligned and mocked, they are a national joke. Whilst the media is by no means responsible, it compounds the existing sense that they are ‘a class not worthy of our concerns’.”

As described by Beatrix, they unfortunately fit into “an overarching culture that sees that part of the population as to blame for everything”. The production itself is not naturalistic, with an ‘epic’ and ‘multilayered’ nature with plays on devices of time and space; however, Judith is keen to reiterate its ‘authenticity’. This is a play based on the writers’ real experiences, and the voices and plights of the characters exist in reality. The plot surrounds the disappearance of an eight-year-old child and the resulting search, not just for her, but also for who is responsible.

Who is to blame, within the walls of the play and within the social world? As the writers say, “It will be for the audience to decide. We’ll just let the characters speak.” They also reiterate Blame’s relevance to students; they want to hear students’ views on it and would “be very happy to talk”. As a character in the play says: “Look behind it, look beyond what you can see”. I think this could be a lesson we should all learn from the play. Blame is showing from March 3 to 17. Talk-backs following the performance will take place on March 7 and 14. Tickets cost £5 for students.

At any mention of pantomime I can’t help but conjure images of inescapable jollity and headache-inducing colours, so I was wary at the prospect of Cinderella at York Theatre Royal. However this is no ordinary panto. Written and led by Berwick Kaler who has been in the role for 29 years, with Martin Barrass his trusty sidekick for 21 of those, they have refined it to an art form. As Barrass says, the mantra for pantomime creation is “is this the best we can do?” and it is this dedication that gives the show its magic. Barrass cites the “laziness” that has built up (complete with questionable ‘celebrities’) and given pantomime a bad name. Kaler has flipped this around, and in any YTR panto “the only celebrities are in the audience”.

The term ‘postmodern pantomime’ has been used to describe the show, and was justified within the first five minutes. We were greeted with a typical English Morris dancing scene, yet after just two minutes of the chorus’s ‘good old pantomime’ song, the Pussy Cat dolls belted out and the demure village ladies became somewhat burlesque. Berwick dislikes “anything twee”, with Barrass and Vincent Gray (Buttons) emphasising that the show is all about “the unexpected”. This attitude of challenging audience expectations results in a fantastical assault on the senses.
Cinderella’s modern edge comes from the careful interlacing of pop culture witticisms, with 2006 summed up with a video remake of the irritating ‘Sheila’s Wheels’ adverts and of course the Hoff. Barrass highlights the heavy emphasis on “physical theatre” which Gray continues with the importance of “partnerships” within the production.

Asking about the traditional moral message of the performance, I received a mixed response: Barrass concluded “it’s nicer to be nice than nasty, then I get beaten up for it”, with Gray adding, “don’t stop trying and it will eventually happen”. If you are still questioning whether to see Cinderella, from Gray himself: “you can’t get a funnier night out anywhere”. In all its pythonesque glory, I really have been converted by the show; long may Kaler and his team’s reign over the pantomime season last.

All the fun of the panto can also be found on our own doorstep. For three whole nights, Central Hall becomes a fully-fledged forest, complete with merry men. I met Will Seaward, director of Robbin’ Hood, who explained his unusual take on the classic story.

“It all begins in Tang Hall”: not often a phrase connected with a heart-warming story. Seaward’s Robin (Rebecca Chalk) swaps Sherwood for YO10, roaming the dangerous territory off Hull Road. Here, in the process of stealing her handbag, he meets Marian (Amy-Claire Scott), the beautiful SU officer who will turn him from slumming it by the Co-op towards a valiant crusade against the evil Sheriff, terrorising the students of York to fund the Heslington East development.

Although Seaward’s version carries a clear message to the student audience, let’s not forget that we’re still talking pantomime. Enter Will Scarlet (Catrin Jones), a girl dressed as a boy in order to win the affections of Robin, who (s)he thinks is gay. Add a Friar Tuck who only talks in rhyme, a Little John confused by his amorous feelings towards comrade Will, and, as if that isn’t mayhem enough, a despondent Cupid with suicidal tendencies.

Pantsoc have clearly gone all out on this one, but they are on a strict budget. “We don’t receive any SU funding”, Seaward explains, “so we’ve been raising money by waxing our legs” (he shows a shiny shin). Overall this promises to be a hilarious and successful student production.
Robbin’ Hood is in Central Hall on 25, 26 and 27 January. Tickets are £3 on Thursday, £4 on Friday and Saturday, and available at Your:Shop, Vanbrugh stalls, or from pantsoc@yusu.org.