X-Men: First Class at the Odeon Cinema

With campy dialogue, thin motivation and mostly unimpressive acting, X-Men: First Class will not win any Oscars at this year’s awards. But, then again, that surely was not Matthew Vaughn’s aspiration when he signed up to direct this latest X-Men film. Surely his intent was to bring X-Men fans a fast, fun, action-packed movie filled with incredible superpowers and a backstory that would lend depth to the characters we encountered in the first X-Men film. And, in that regard, the film delivers.

Though Matthew Vaughn has only directed three other films, all of his directorial outings have been met with critical success. His fantastic Layer Cake did not do well in the box office, but was universally praised by reviewers, and his second film, Stardust, was both a critical and commercial success. Matthew Vaughn comes off his last film, Kick-Ass, red hot, and continues his success with X-Men: First Class. The film does what it promises; it gives us big effects, high-octane action, and the explanation of the relationship between Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) and Erik Lehnsherr (better known as Magneto, played by Michael Fassbender), as well as the origins of Raven (Mystique, played by Jennifer Lawrence) and Hank McCoy (Beast, played by Berkshire native Nicholas Hoult). The relationship between Magneto and Professor Xavier is particularly captivating (and is the main crux of the film), and will do much to explain the events of the original X-Men film to those who have not read the X-Men comics.

Though it is clear that First Class is not intended to be anything more than a summer thrill, the film, and Vaughn’s direction in particular, is in need of sharpening. Though there are some nice moments between characters (the scene where Professor X helps Magneto turn the radio dish, as well as the chilling scene between the young Magneto and the evil Sebastian Shaw come to mind), the connections are at best fleeting, and at worst laughable. When Mystique and Beast reveal their mutual desire to be normal the air is so heavily saccharine that it is hard to stifle laughter (and many in the theater did not). When Magneto finds Mystique lying in his bed naked, the viewer is left scratching his head. When did they develop this sexual tension? When, indeed, had they even talked in the movie?

What is frustrating is that mistakes like these could have easily been avoided with a talented director and writer like Vaughn. McAvoy and Fassbender do a decent job in their respective roles, but it is hard to imagine Vaughn—who had such clever and fast-paced dialogue in Layer Cake, and who elevated Stardust from a potential candy-coated mess to a genuinely touching film—missing so many opportunities to create a connection between his characters, and failing to make their motivations intelligible. Though one would not expect a summer blockbuster like X-Men: First Class to reach new emotional heights, it leaves a sour taste in the mouth that Vaughn’s usual skill is mostly wasted here.

It is hard to fault the film too much, though; we are introduced to a slew of new and exciting mutants, including Havok, who can shoot huge pulses of energy that cut and incinerate targets into pieces; Darwin, who can grow gills and shield himself with armadillo-like armor; and the main villain, Shaw, who can absorb any energy (including nuclear energy) and unleash it with deadly force. The film never slows its pace during its two-hour runtime, and the Oxford crowd will get a special treat, as the film spends a good deal of time on campus. It is a bit worrisome for Vaughn and his cast, though, that after the film most of the audience was talking about Hugh Jackman’s cameo as Wolverine rather than the film itself.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Chase, Becca, and I saw a Saturday night Stand Up Comedy show at the Glee Club in Oxford. Although I would not associate the word “glee” with the experience, the show was funny and well worth my time. The show tonight consisted of one MC/comedian and four stand up comedians. Each comedian brought something different to the table and, while some were funnier than others, their styles of comedy balanced each other well and helped to compose an altogether enjoyable show. Common themes throughout the show were cultural differences, sex, relationships, and most of all, self-deprecating humor. In the following artist statement, I will briefly categorize each comedian’s performance style and then discuss how the performances of each contributed to common themes and the genre of comedy as a whole.

Each comedian had a different comedy-delivery-style. The Australian MC primarily used self-deprecating, cultural humor to connect with the audience. Although he started off in friendly control of the audience, as the show went on the crowd got more rowdy, he attempted to play an authority figure so much that he was less likeable by the end. John Hastings, the second comedian, delivered his jokes as though he was sharing a story with a group of friends and helped us to be “in on the joke.” His performance was the most appealing to me because it made me feel like I was a positive part of his comedic process. Jerry Howe, the third comedian, was the joke of his own act. He hilariously played off his own awkward persona to get laughs, but probably would not have been funny for much longer than his allotted ten minutes. Steve Shanyaski, the third comedian, was my least favorite of the group, despite that the crowd seemed to love him. Unlike the other comedians in the show, his comedy was “hammy,” in the sense that he was saying, “Look, I’m telling a funny joke,” rather than using subtle, more thoughtful humor like the others did. Finally, the last performer, Carey Marx stole the show with his direct, crass, and boundary crossing humor that openly pushed us as audience members to the edge our comfort zones. His act was like one big crescendo, with few laughs at the start, but howling laughter by the end.

Each comedian’s act contained some extent of cultural differences, sex, relationships, and most of all, self-deprecating humor. While “cultural differences” primarily refers to nationality (Australian - MC, Canadian - John Hastings), it also more generally refers to people of different backgrounds and belief, including where someone lives in the UK, gender, and religion. Therefore, this idea of “cultural differences” is broadly sweeping, but underscores the idea that comedy is largely based upon how people differ and disagree. It seems that we use humor to help us make sense of, or at the least make light of, these differences, which we may not always understand. Sex and relationships generally fit into the same category, but they differ in that “relationships” can also be platonic. The audience seemed to find more laughter in the platonic relationships to which we can all relate than the relatively obscure sex jokes. This reaction may have to do with the specific Oxford audience, but likely also stems from the fact that we enjoy that comedy helps us to laugh at the seemingly mundane aspects of our own lives. The popular use of self-deprecating humor also seems to stem form the idea that we audience members like the excuse to laugh at ourselves. We as people have a programmed aversion to embarrassment, so I propose that the comedians realize that once they make fools of themselves, we audience members feel like we have permission to laugh at our own foolishness. As a result, making fun of ourselves is a large part of the whole comedic experience.

In analyzing the themes of the comedy show, in particular the idea that we enjoy laughing at ourselves, I find myself analyzing my perception of comedy as a whole art form. Comedy seems to be society’s way of saying, “it’s okay” to every scenario. “It’s okay,” as long as you can laugh about it. “It” could be anything from the fleeting moments (tripping on your own shoelace, sitting in wet paint, failing an exam) to the life changing moments (politics, marriage, death, war, etc.). For example, I will never forget the first episode of Saturday Night Live after September 11th during which Mayor Giuliani stood on stage with members of the New York Fire Department and essentially said to New York City and the rest of the country, “It’s okay. You can laugh again.” Comedy helps people to find perspective and simply move on to the next joke in both the mundane and the extraordinary. Laughter really is the best medicine.

Form Follows Function at the Oxford Botanic Gardens

It is impossible to visit the University of Oxford Botanic Gardens without first passing by the rose garden in front of the Daubeny House, a building of Magdalen College that shares the property. The rose garden, while small, embodies the characteristics of a traditional western garden: symmetrical, elegant, and immaculate. Without paying any entry fee passers-by can walk through this small garden and imagine it as a shadow of the landscape one might see beyond the stone walls of the Oxford Botanic Gardens. Such expectations would be theoretically flattering, though unfounded.

The Oxford Botanic Gardens finds its origin not in pleasure or aesthetics, but in purpose. In the early 17^th century Sir Henry Danvers provided the first endowment for a scientific garden. The site has served as a resource for natural medicine and scientific research ever since. The centuries of history behind the garden are embodied in the landscape layout of the premises. The large and central Walled Garden constitutes the oldest part of the design. Other areas of the Oxford Botanic Gardens—the Rock Garden, the Water Garden, and the greenhouses—exist outside the original walls as more recent additions.

Besides telling the chronology of the gardens, the landscape plan also tells the story of an aesthetic evolution from symmetry to asymmetry. The Walled Garden is organized upon a central axis that runs from Danby Arch, near the entry to the gardens, to the passage out to the Rock Garden at the opposite end. Two conic topiaries, the only two plants in the garden pruned into a purposefully aesthetic shape, frame the central walkway punctuated by a circular fountain at its centre. Other paths cross the Walled Garden in perpendicular grids, establishing rectangular greens where geometry continues to prevail in regularly sized rectangular plots. Each plant is labelled with a scientific exactitude that complements the symmetry of the garden. However, despite this framework of symmetry the Oxford Botanic Gardens is no typical English rose garden. Besides the obvious lack of roses, the landscape occasionally breaks the rule of symmetry. Trees sparsely flank the regular walkways at irregular distances; evergreen trees stand in proximity to deciduous trees with obvious incongruity.

The asymmetry increases as visitors pass through the wall at the far end of the Walled Garden and gain an initial glimpse of the Rock Garden and plots beyond it. An oval pool welcomes visitors to this new vista and establishes a deliberate deviation from the superficial regularity of the Walled Garden and its circular pool. Roughly hewn stones covered in flora surround the oval pool in a steeped fashion, though the formation rises higher on the left side than the right. The right side seems to overcompensate where the stone encroaches further out onto the central axis pathway than on the other side. Beyond the rock garden, paths extend in diagonal and curved fashions, contrasting with the vestiges of symmetry evoked by the rectangular plots of the fruit, vegetable, and herb collection on the east side of the yard. On several of the larger plots of land nothing grows at all, the soil lying fallow for future gardening.

The shift towards asymmetry beyond the Walled Garden is unmistakable, though one might attribute it to the irregular boundaries of the outer garden. However, no such excuse exists for the final and most modern area of the Oxford Botanic Gardens, the greenhouses. Each greenhouse has regular rectangular perimeters—a blank canvas for the landscape architect. Yet, rather than conforming to the conventions of symmetry, the landscape of each demonstrates a unique, concerted effort to explore the possibilities of asymmetry. The largest of them, the Palm House, appears conventional upon first entry. A straight path down the middle of the greenhouse mirrors the effect of the Walled Garden, leading to a central point. However, this central point is not a circle but an oval, oriented askew from the axis that the entry pathway suggests.

This oval, hearkening back to the oval pool in the rock garden, heralds an experimental asymmetry that pervades the rest of the green houses. The remaining area of the Palm House is divided by organic undulating pathways that radiate from the central oval. The plant border of the insectivorous room juts out unexpectedly, piercing the rounded rectangular floor space. The Fern room embraces asymmetry with a more thematic awareness; its spiral floor echoes the unfurling of a fern frond.

The asymmetry of the greenhouses is both unexpected and refreshing. However, these deviations from the norm would not be as noticeable or poignant without the contrast of the more traditional Walled Garden. The Walled Garden does not represent a weak point of creativity in the layout of the Oxford Botanic Gardens, but rather the source of aesthetic power and cohesion. It is the standard by which the experimental landscape architecture comes to life. By no means homogenous, the Oxford Botanic Gardens conveys a sense of aesthetic wholeness that is sure to affect both the casual visitor and the serious explorer. Though it is no English rose garden, the Oxford Botanic Garden’s offerings are far more complex, interesting, and (at the very least) useful.

Phantasm – An Encounter with Baroque English Music

For my third art interaction at Oxford through this class, I attended a traditional English music concert at Magdalen College this past Sunday. The artist group that performed the concert was called “Phantasm,” joined by Daniel Hyde on the organ. Being a classical violinist I thought I knew what I was in for before I walked over to Magdalen for the concert. However, what I expected from Phantasm was not what I actually experienced.

The biggest fact that threw me off about Phantasm was that I was expecting a classical chamber music string sextet, with violins, violas, and cellos. When the musicians walked out with their instruments it was instantly clear that they were not “classical musicians” in the most typical sense. In fact, they carried with them were not violins but “viols,” late 15th century baroque instruments that were completely different from the modern violin that we know today. While the violin has four strings and no frets, the viol, or Viola da gamba, is a six-stringed, fretted instrument that is played with a bow. Viols are most commonly strung with low-tension gut strings, as opposed to the violin, which is typically strung high-tension steel strings. Unlike violins, which are tuned in fifths, viols are tuned in fourths with a major third in the middle. In contrast to the modern-day concave violin bow, the bow used to play the viol is convex, as the bows in the baroque period typically were. The “organ” that Hyde played was also less of a traditional modern-day organ and more like a baroque-period virginal.

After recovering from this initial surprise I took my seat and prepared to listen to some baroque music. The musicians of Phantasm were very gifted and expressive musicians. Technically, I heard almost no mistakes. Musically, I felt that the pieces they chose to play were both challenging and adventurous. I had never heard of William Lawes or John Ward before. This concert exposed me to an entire field in music that I had forgotten about – early baroque music, and English baroque at that. The actual concert itself was intriguing to me, as the music Phantasm played was very rich and expressive, yet there was something rebellious about the texture of the music. With the pieces by Lawes, I noticed that while the viol typically was considered a “quiet” instrument, the music he wrote significantly defied this norm. These pieces would have moments of quiet, peaceful meditations, followed by outbursts of energy. There is a substantial amount of emotion packed into these pieces, demonstrated through the striking contrast of the music, sometimes within a matter of a few beats. The organ only added to the rich texture of Lawes’s compositions. It played a major role in tying the melodies and harmonies of all six viols together, weaving in and out of the other instruments to create underlying themes in the music.

All in all, I felt that Phantasm achieved the artistic goals that it set out to achieve. It performed expressive, adventurous, enjoyable music in the style of the baroque period, never faltering in their professionalism or stage presence. They chose music that made the audience think, about the melodies, about the shape of phrases, about the rich textures and interesting chord progressions of the music. I think they did a very commendable job in interpreting William Lawes’ music.

The Power of Plants: The University of Oxford Botanical Garden

The University of Oxford Botanic Garden holds a scholarly collection of plants. It has been around since 1621, originally a Physic Garden (for medicinal plants). In the 19^th century, it became botanical (for any utility). It is a center of tranquility in the middle of High Street, right by the river. The wind blows less strongly inside the walls, and beyond its academic and artistic value, is a nice place to sit in the sun watching punters pass.

Not many people appreciate that medicine would be nowhere today if it weren’t for plants. The Botanic Garden still grows medicinal species. They have “The Healing Power of Plants Trail” which includes the key foxglove (heart conditions), mulberry (diabetes), and sweet corn (for pill capsules). The trail invites the visitor to imagine the diabetes pill, the cancer drug, and caffeine outside the capsule. It is a commemoration to a time when the things stuff was made out of was not a mystery. Nowadays, it is usually impossible to understand how something like our medicine is manufactured: rest assured it doesn’t grow like a plant anymore.

Composed of two courtyards, the Botanic Garden has patches bursting with flowers, grasses, and trees. Beside each patch of flora are descriptive plaques. About an eighth of one of the courtyards is taken up by the medicinal plants. Each field of medicine has a patch. As a pre-medical student, it was refreshing to encounter drug derivatives in their non-textbook form. The subtle clusters of the dark green mandrake, used to treat dysentery, or the conical white flower bundles of the Woolly Foxglove, for the treatment of severe heart conditions, puts me in contemplative bliss. The Botanic Garden is a monumental display of the importance of natural things, in all their simple beauty.

In a series of glass houses, are an alpine room, a fernery, a lily house, an insectivorous house, a palm house, and an arid house. These rooms are all carefully rendered little areas. The fernery’s floor is spiraling stone, the ferns copse around, clustering out to brush passersby. The lily house dangles teal colored vines and lilies the size of inflatable swimming pools. The arid house is desiccated by prickly cacti. A tree from India bulges with football-sized oranges, another’s no bigger than a marble. It is a floral emporium, token organisms plucked from every colony and buried into the Queen’s soil, but with rainbow glittering results in this university setting.

The Botanic Gardens immerse the visitor into a mini-microcosm trove of natural science diversity. It is more than just sun, a river, rocks, and plants; it resounds with the cry that Penicillin was first a plant.

Taking Back Sunday! Tell All Your Friends!

Not many bands continue to exist after eleven years of playing together, but not many bands have more past members listed in their line-up than current members. Taking Back Sunday, the American rock quintet from Long Island sent shockwaves into the depths of online punk-rock forums around the world when they announced last year they would be reuniting the original line-up that recorded the cult-classic Tell All Your Friends in 2002. After the bad blood that initially divided the band and spurred countless songs of hatred and betrayal had passed, John Nolan and Shaun Cooper rejoined with Adam Lazzara, Eddie Reyes, and Mark O’Connell to record a new album and roll through London on a quick European stint.

It was a sold out show at the Roundhouse in London on Friday, May 20th, as tattooed, flannel-clad twenty-some year olds crowded the stage. Taking Back Sunday opened with “Cute Without The ‘E’ (Cut From The Team),” the breakout single off Tell All Your Friends that first gained the band notoriety. The first four open chords of the intro ushered in an immediate burst of energy; anticipation had been building throughout the sound check and suddenly broke the stillness of the crowd. Adam Lazzara, the lead singer known for swinging the mic just as much singing into it, quickly paced the stage, belting out the words with intensity. John Nolan, the guitarist/keyboardist, provided raspy back-up vocals in the band’s trademark call-and-response manner. The crowd was as much a part of the experience as the band, moshing against each other, crowd surfing toward the stage, and screaming every word of every verse and chorus.

The venue was a large circular room with the stage slightly offset of the middle, so the sound was pretty well balanced compared to most other venues because of the speakers set in front of the stage, as well as around the second level seating areas. The band’s live energy more than made up for Adam’s sometimes fleeting voice and the lack of polish and production that a recorded album allows. It was clear that all the members of the band had massive amounts of experience playing live shows, even if most of those shows were not together. They rotated seamlessly between different electric guitars acoustic guitars, and keyboards to accommodate various tunings and tones of songs. Adam and John both did a great job entertaining the audience with witty banter and clever anecdotes in between songs as the band retuned and called for in-era monitor adjustments from the soundboard in the back.

The band also did a fantastic job mixing material from their four previous albums and up-coming album, as well as a cover song from John Nolan and Shaun Cooper’s, previous band, Straylight Run. They played many songs off of their first CD that the band usually did not play previous to the line-up reunion. They also had a touring member providing back-up vocals and guitar hidden in the back corner to help fill out many of the parts that had been layered on the recorded songs.

Taking Back Sunday played to the audience, keeping the energy up for the first six songs of the set. Adam would hold the mic out over the crowd for them to scream lyrics into it, then swing it high in the air before catching it by wrapping it around his neck and arms during instrumental parts. Mark O’Connell kept time in between songs to keep the energy up and click in the band for the next song. The Straylight Run cover of “Existentialism on Prom Night” was the only mellow song throughout the set, though they have a handful in their catalogue. “Everything Must Go” also started out soft and slow, but then built to a strong, heavy finish. The rest of the set was a compilation of singles and crowd-favorites with no real surprises in the set list. The songs had areas of dynamic distinction, but even when the band would bring it low or drop out completely, Adam and John’s raspy sing-screaming kept the energy high. Before the final song, their most popular single, “MakeDamnSure,” Adam asked the crowd for requests. The crowd called for “There’s No ‘I’ In Team,” which Adam swore they would never play again after John and Shaun quit the band in 2004. Much to the crowd’s delight, Taking Back Sunday obliged their request. My personal favorite moment of the concert was hearing the band play “Best Places To Be A Mom,” the first song released off their forth-coming record. The raw, syncopated drums and open balance of music and singing translated incredibly in a live atmosphere. Even though the band was often playing songs they wrote ten years ago as teenagers, they performed and sang with all their hearts, as if every note and every word still rang true.

Here is a decent quality video of the opening song at the Roundhouse: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YopvhZZygFw

Stand-Up at the Glee Club, Oxford

The Glee Club in Oxford offers a charming diversion for hen and stag parties, middle aged couples, and the over-thirty guys’ night out on a Saturday night. Located on Upper Fisher Row, the Glee Club Oxford is strategically placed next to one of the busiest nightclubs in Oxford—the Bridge—which is not far off from its competitor, Park End, offering a complete package of casual and intoxicating amusement in one street block. Upon entering the Glee Club, the hostess will lead you to an assigned table, assuming that you purchase tickets ahead of time. For non-university adult tickets, the price is £18. However, the student ticket pricing is a tantalizing steal at £5.

The aesthetics of the Glee Club is reminiscent of a 1970s game show stage without the polyester. The wall facing the audience is decorated by a red-orange stage curtain, which serves as the background for a large sign that reads “glee” in Impact font. The stage lights projected an orange lava-lamp pattern, which might have been intended to stimulate a kitschy nostalgia for Woodstock or even Nixon. The entirety of the Glee Club is dimly lit except for a selection of a few lamps, which is strangely a signifier for all entertainment venues that cater at night. The early bird attendees are mostly in the 40- and 50- something demographics, and the similarities between the aesthetics and the attendees could be attributed to the need to cater to the age of their customers. The bar is seemingly the only corner of space that belongs to the contemporary generation, comparably lit and catered by young bartenders.

Comedian Matt Brown served as the host throughout the night. While he considered his interjections of monologue between the comics as a “comedy act,” Brown’s performance is better labeled as entertaining and witty hosting than a traditional comedy act. He thoroughly engaged the audience, asking first if there were any “couples” in the audience, then “university” students, and then “Americans”—equally antagonizing the audience with the pitfalls of their categories. The subject of committed relationships seemed to be the common vein of most of his jokes, catering to the older demographic in the audience.

The first act, Dave Twentyman, entertained the audience with the same topic of relationships, ruminating on the Hangover-esque nature of stag parties to the role of the naked phallus in older relationships. However, for the only two Americans in the audience, his Scottish accent proved to be a difficult barrier in translating his jokes into laughter.

Nick Helm, the second comic who resembled an intoxicated Zach Galifianakis, employed a revolutionary type of humor. He blurred the lines between staged insanity and real insanity and dared the audience to question whether his character of an obese, bipolar depressant is inspired by his actual life. Helm entered the stage and asked an audience member whether he liked jokes, but the genius of his work originates from the fact that he repeated “Do you like jokes?” 10 more times in a maniacal manner. He also played a number of original, ironic love songs on his guitar in a fashion reminiscent of comedian Demetri Martin. Helm maintained his character throughout the entire act; this commitment to the art form was the crux of his comedic genius. However, the absurdity of his act divided the audience into two groups: those who could barely sustain a living breath from laughing so hard and those who were so frightened that they couldn’t laugh.

The unfortunate nature of being the act after “the tough act to follow” is that no one remembers the details of your act or even your name, which is the real life case of the comedian after Nick Helm. Unfortunately, his act—regardless of the caliber of humor—could not compare to Nick Helm’s and received conventional laughs for his conventional humor.

Overall, the value entertainment value of a stand-up comedy show at Glee Club far outweighs its cost by a far measurement. While our generation has neglected these comedic cesspools for the conventional club hop, they should reconsider stand-up’s potential for nightly entertainment.