Amanda Seyfried, of Mamma Mia! fame, plays lead female Sophie, who is on a pre-wedding holiday with her fiancé Victor (Gael Garcia Bernal). Victor is a self-obsessed chef and Sophie an aspiring writer—as odd a couple as Cher and Gene Simmons once were. Upon visiting the wall of letters, Sophie meets the ‘Secretaries of Juliet’, a team of four older ladies, and begins helping write replies to the letters. Upon responding to one particular letter Sophie inspires pensioner Claire (Vanessa Redgrave) to find her long-lost love, alongside her grandson Charlie (Christopher Egan). Cue the inevitable exploits that come with any rom-com: the breaking and mending of hearts.

First and foremost, the scenery is beautiful, breathtaking in fact. The film is quite charming because of this and the Italian culture it portrays. However, the score is overwhelming in its ploy to induce emotion—it is too sugary sweet; the soundtrack is a little better, but no Mamma Mia!

And the answer to the question of predictability is: no. This film is as predictable as rom-com films can come, but the acting is fairly decent, though the Garcia Bernal is severely underused. The dialogue between Sophie and Charlie was better than expected, with some clever one-liners being rolled out. Despite this, there are far many too clichés used. Vanessa Redgrave definitely stands out and lights up the screen with her acting brilliance, but she doesn’t quite pass for being Claire’s age of sixty-five years old.

Overall, the last twenty-minutes of this film are enjoyable, but how this was dragged out for approaching two-hours is inexcusable. Despite its charm and surprisingly (just about) tolerable dialogue, this is no better than Winick’s previous offering of Bride Wars. I recommend watching a re-run of Notting Hill or other rom-com classics instead, as this will be in the bargain-bin soon enough!

Rating: 2/5

Split into three sections with two intervals, it was no surprise that with such a fragmented setup, the only connecting aspects were perhaps the fascinatingly entangling figures the dancers got themselves into. The whole experience challenged a few preconceptions I had about ballet: one being that ballet is often only good if the accompanying music is extra-special; that it is usually about the frail (and sometimes far too skinny) portrayal of the female; and finally, and perhaps understandably, that ballet should only ever exist on the level of innuendo and never be explicitly and sexually daring!
The first two sections were accompanied by the Royal Ballet Sinfonia who excelled themselves and really did justice to the Rossini and Beethoven that they played. In the first third, the ballet was accordingly traditional, the shapes fluid and the costumes angelic. A troupe of eight dancers performed a twenty minute dance of what seemed to be a mixture of the pure romance of Romeo and Juliet and a celebration of femininity. In all, it made for quite charming British ballet.

The second third was potentially the most daring, as the theme shifted from pure love to raunchy lust. At times I found the content a little too brave and sensational especially seeing as some of the audience hadn’t hit double-digits. A barrier had most definitely been crossed. There’s always tension in an innuendo filled dance, and it’s completely lost when the barrier between innuendo and explicit is broken. I was left wondering where the mystery of the dance was, there was no need for the audience to interpret; it was just handed to them on a plate. In all, a rather disappointing rendition of dance, that I could have found in BPM for less than a fiver.

However, one interval later and it had soon redeemed itself. The final was accompanied by what could have been a dance anthem (complete with strobe lighting). It was ballet with a sharp and quirky edge, almost androgynous in its dancing style. It captured the athleticism and muscular endurance that ballet requires. It was by far the most captivating style of dance. Although many met its break away from the conventional with disappointment, I personally thought it was fresh and charismatic.

It proves the ballet still holds its charm and elegance whilst expanding into the 21st Century. Now at only £5, it is no longer a million miles away from our student budgets – just be prepared to redefine your preconceptions!

And in a single quote, much of ‘Howling Moon’ can be summed up. This play is one which, in gracing the Drama Barn last weekend, left its audience bemused, excited and altogether quite emotional.

Student Heather Wilmot’s script is at time brilliantly funny, and at others heart-wrenchingly sad, as it takes the audience on a wild ride for almost three hours (with interval) through the mind of Maggie, who is a “22-year-old student, actually,” and played by Gemma Whitham. It is plagued by problems that do need fixing if it’s ever to be reshown, but they are mostly located in a clear disregard for the ‘delete’ button. The play is simply too long, but ruthless editing could turn a pretty decent script into an amazing one. Wilmot’s direction and producer Shona Jemphrey’s success in securing grass turf for the Barn have definitely benefited the production, along with clever lighting design by Jack Luckett and Josh Littlewood, which fearlessly exploits usage of the full blackout.
Whitham’s portrayal of Maggie is well acted, if at times strained. However, for an actor who is forced to be on stage for almost the entirety of the play, her performance is very strong. With a character that, despite being the centre of the entire two acts, isn’t entirely memorable, Whitham does well to exploit her lines to maximum effect.

Yet none in the play do this better than Sam McCormick, better known as The Fox. Hilariously witty, sharp and somehow equally lovable, The Fox is brought to life by McCormick’s joyful, jovial take on the character. Instantly fun, and bringing a comic edge to the sometimes quite sombre events that take place on stage, McCormick is very good at what he does.

“But what is ‘Howling Moon’ about?” I hear you ask. “What does it look like? What does it sound like?”
The only real response is: magical. If you were to take a 1980s flashback (think Duran Duran), Alice in Wonderland, Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, Lord of the Rings, David Bowie and The Wizard of Oz and pump them all through some kind of play-writing machine, then you’d probably be close to the result. Confused? So was I.

Nonetheless, ‘Howling Moon’ somehow succeeds in everything it sets out to do. It makes you laugh, it makes you cry, it makes you smile, it makes you pine, and it takes you on one long rollercoaster journey. Daisy Bunyan’s costume, hair and makeup design is perhaps clichéd (white face paint, bin liner dresses and backcombed hair have all certainly been done before), the choreography can seem misplaced but often effective, the script can seem too long and the direction occasionally uninventive, and yet, somehow, ‘Howling Moon’ wins its audience over. Leaving The Barn, there was one simple comment on my lips.
“I’m not entirely sure what just happened, but I’m pretty sure that I think it was good.”

While there is a touch of ‘same old, same old’ with the second track ‘Salt in the Wounds’, the star of the album is the collaboration with metallers In Flames, ‘Self vs. Self’. A tumultuous blend of metal and dance, this track outweighs the disappointment of their less impressive efforts. Another stunner is ‘Immunize’, featuring the Prodigy’s Liam Howlett, a steadily building, immersive headbanger that is undoubtedly one of the best tracks but manages only to highlight the weakness of some of the album’s other tracks. One example would be the mismatched ‘Witchcraft’. Rob Swire’s curiously sensitive opening lyrics lead you to question whether he’s suffering from PMS and provide a massive contrast with the chaos of the rest of the track. To be frank, it doesn’t work.

Despite the occasional let downs, this album provides enough gems to satisfy Pendulum’s formidable fan base. However, regardless of the quality of the album, this style of music will always be a hit at festivals and live shows. Having previously managed several top 10 singles, Pendulum have successfully managed to make a name for themselves with the kind of dance metal crossover that has previously been absent from the mainstream. Immersion is a testament to the group’s ability to create songs with bounce and energy, well suited to the dance floor and sweaty moshpits.

It is obvious from the opening track that this is Melua’s stab at being edgy. The unintentional dark humour of ‘I’d Love To Kill You’ is a long way from the Melua who once sang about bicycles in Beijing. Yet, even when she is threatening to kill people, Melua remains as frustratingly dull as ever. Lyrics that attempt to be kooky such as “I’d like to kill you by a stream, where no one can hear my baby scream” simply ring crazy lady alarm bells.

There are moments that suggest potential. The first single to be released from the album, ‘The Flood’, mixes together Indian influences with a relaxed rocky feel which works well and makes way for a drastic change of mood in the middle, becoming upbeat and trippy. ‘No Fear of Heights’ and ‘Tiny Alien’ also suggest some interesting ideas. However, these tracks are anomalies in an otherwise vapid album.

The music scene has changed considerably since Melua’s last release in 2007. With lacklustre releases such as this, she will have to work hard in order to remain successful in the charts where strong, distinctive women such as Lady Gaga and Rihanna now dominate.

As couple Jamie and Cathy, Joe Hufton and Laura Horton are instantly believable in their roles. Accompanied by a 7-part band under the direction of Jamie Oliver, the pair played to their strengths throughout the performance in a one-act musical that never fails to impress.

Horton, of RENT and Elysium fame, stands out as the instantly lovable and fallible Cathy, with her acting and singing talents both being flaunted on the stage of the Drama Barn. With a belt that was truly on form despite the intense heat of sun and stage lights, Horton’s singing ability never lets her down, and yet is immediately appropriate for the fringe nature of the performance. Never over the top or self-indulgent, her singing ability shines through every song, even over the volume of the string trio (and other instruments) only a few metres away. Equally, Horton’s acting ability is mesmerising, with every facial expression causing the audience to move and sway along the relationship with Cathy and her effortless song, from start to finish.

Only slightly less impressive is Hufton’s performance as Jamie. Despite technically accurate singing, against Horton his voice seems somewhat strained, certainly not helped by the conditions of the performance. Occasionally drowned out by the band, his singing and acting can seem more appropriate for a miked performance on a larger stage. Hufton is an actor more suited to Central Hall than the Barn, his facial expressions less moving than Horton’s. Nonetheless, it cannot be denied that Hufton’s talent is still very real, and his performance is both honest and moving. Hufton is a strong actor and that is clear in this show. His comic timing is fantastic, especially in a role that demands a lot of skills from the actor involved, and against any other performer would clearly shine through.

The musical direction by Jamie Oliver is fantastic, with the band making few, if any, mistakes. Their role is as demanding as the actors’, playing almost without pause for most of the musical and always keeping time accurately and sensitively to the rest of the action.

Similarly, Carr’s direction is faultless. The Last Five Years is a play that demands beautiful staging and a director who is as talented as his actors, and Carr never fails in that regard. Taking the risky decision to perform the play in between two facing ranks of the audience, Horton and Hufton are made to act in such a way that always allowed audience members to see something even if they couldn’t see everything. Carr’s direction is both beautiful and dramatic, with the standout scene being that in which Jamie and Cathy travel from couple to fiancées to husband and wife. This scene, delicately dealt with and yet wonderfully moving by the time it comes around in the play is by far the most beautiful, with simply but clever lighting also helping to increase the sense of wonder in those moments.

The Last Five Years is a musical that demands so much of its cast and crew, and is one that deserves a run far longer than the three days it has this weekend. Carr, Hufton, Horton, Oliver, Lane and any others involved in the show deserve utmost praise for what is a powerful and emotional performance that is both consistent and at times jaw-droppingly stunning.

In what is a markedly beautiful production, Emily Spooner and Pippa Dyble (both prod. and dir.) have taken on a play whose name is banded about freely following its success as a musical on Broadway and in the West End. However, this (rather long) production of the original play-text version of Spring Awakening by Frank Wedekind (since translated) runs for two-and-a-half hours and yet is one that is powerful, unique and distinctly memorable.

Described by one audience member as “one of the best things I’ve ever seen in the Barn”, this latest offering from DramaSoc is one that won’t quickly leave the consciousness of any who see it.

Upon entering the Barn, one is greeted by an all-white set, a rare treat for those used to the dark, shadowy interior of the room that is normally painted all black. The walls, the floor, the solitary bench in the middle of the stage – all are completely white. Even the (what appears to be papier-mâché) tree that spreads its branches out over the entirety of stage left is completely white. Simple and minimalist, this bare set is striking for a play that is called “Spring Awakening”. It seems more Wintry Death at this point in time.

Yet as the play progresses the stage is slowly coloured: rose-petal confetti dropped by schoolgirls, hay left from a night in a barn, a basket of flowers under a tree. Without revealing too much of the plot itself, each of these things taints the white floor, leaving memories behind of the development of the children who bring life to the deathly white of the rest of the stage, as the set itself experiences an awakening, arising out of its own deep slumber.

Toby Foster here deserves special mention for his excellent lighting design, which though simple in its nature, creates instantly believable outdoor and indoor scenes and through somewhat basic changes in lighting does everything that is necessary to move the action as appropriate, making full use of the white set.

The cast, headed up by fantastic portrayals of Melchior and Wendla by Freddy Elletson and Francesca Murray-Fuentes, is notable if for nothing else than for its extremely strong performance across the board. Dealing sensitively with themes of an ‘adult’ nature, the production refuses to back down in its expressions of violence, rape, sex, homosexuality, heterosexuality and death and is only let down by occasionally weaker moments in what seems to be a slightly rushed second act. Nonetheless, it is difficult to criticise a piece that never seems to get boring and that always provides the audience with something to laugh at and to be shocked at.

Most significant is the depiction of Moritz by Michael Wilkins. Seemingly comfortable in monologue and opposite a full stage of actors, Wilkins is dazzling in his characterisation of the pubescent schoolboy and is instantly believable as the nervous, curious and yet delightfully lovable teenager. Able to fill the stage whilst sitting solitary center stage and with excellent comic timing, and an ability to switch from deep humour to hard-hitting drama seamlessly, Wilkins stole the show in his performance.

Slightly disappointing is the brief appearance of Tom Vickers who in his first of two characters appeared somewhat weaker in his exploration of Professor Sunstroke. However this is saved by the dramatic Masked Man who Vickers plays in the final scene of the play, in a dreamlike end to what is otherwise a play lacking in surrealism entirely.

Yet despite occasional hiccups, Spring Awakening is a fresh, moving and brilliantly funny performance that will surely delight any and all who go along to see it this weekend. The problems in the performance are few and far between, and this is overall a production that Spooner, Dyble and the rest of the cast and crew should be extremely proud of.

It turns out Depp is a massive fan of Babybird, appearing as a guest guitarist on the bands sixth album, ‘Ex-Maniac’ and directing the haunting video to ‘Unloveable’. Depp has described the bands leadsinger Stephen Jones as ‘a national treasure’ believing him to be lyrically ‘brilliant and sharp as a razor.’

Jones did not disappoint, impressing fans with new material such as the dry and beautiful ‘Failed Suicide Club.’ The latest single ‘Unloveable’ promises a successful year for the band, as the melodic lyrics documents a bitter yet inspired self-loathing. Babybird’s appeal lies within their ability to embed reflections on the horrible, violent parts of life within epic, multi-layers guitars.

Despite Depp’s absence, Babybird drew a large crowd, including many thirty-something’s who sang more energetically than anyone half their age. Jones proved an iconic front man, well known for interspersing his songs with extremist views, dedicating one song to the killers of Jamie Bulger and ordering that they be ‘strung up by their necks.’

The band finished with a far more light-hearted encore of ‘You’re Gorgeous.’ Yet, as I sang along with all the happiness embodied in nineties nostalgia, I realised that these lyrics too had a hint of the bitter and twisted in them. Yet it is such bitter-sweet realisations which make Babybird’s lyrical dejection so ironically loveable.

By Sophie Ann James

Tipped as the degenerate Hannah Montana, Nashville rebel Ke$ha Sebert (note the American patriotism and rock and roll surname) hit the charts back in 2009, as a backing singer in Flo Rida’s ‘Right Round’. Previous to this, the Sebert family appeared on MTV’s The Simple Life and Ke$ha herself also featured on Paris Hilton’s extremely memorable single, ‘Nothing In This World’. Perhaps this trauma has something to do with the twenty two year old’s desire to present herself as an independent, brash mutineer without a cause on her debut release, Animal.

Her most successful single, ‘Tik Tok’, is the snakebite of pop songs: sweet, trashy and infinitely more tasty as time goes on. We all love to hate her whinging vocals, which are replicated in each of the album’s other offerings.

‘Blah Blah Blah’, Ke$ha’s latest release, again demonstrates her seemingly effortless ability to switch from half-singing to half-talking, and features an input from American teen punk-pop group 3OH!3. The themes in Animal still don’t extend past ripping up bars, teasing boys with futile flirting and getting ‘crunk’ whilst avoiding any parental judgement. Ironically, the co-writer on most tracks is actually Ke$ha’s own mother, who clearly approves of her careless attitude and is perhaps even encouraging towards her daughter’s love of Mick Jagger-esque males. Sadly, Ke$ha’s attempt at a more serious Clarkson style ballad seems to flop, lacking the signature punchy, emotional chorus which other American producers are so effective in creating.

There are a few glimmers of effective rhyme in this compilation of bubblegum pop-rap, the highlights including the lyric, “don’t be a little bitch with your chit chat, just show me where your dick’s at”.

Ke$ha’s tracks scream attitude and immorality yet seem playful; the singer sits back and snaps her gum but still manages to hit us where it hurts. Annoyingly, most tracks are very catchy and are likely to succeed commercially due to Dr Luke’s successfully eclectic sounds.

Ke$ha’s desire to drink until she vomits and stay out all night long will keep listeners diverted until the end, although some very poor lyrics and laughable imagery may inhibit this album’s rise to success.

Thankfully rap-rock died a deserved death in the early noughties but as with any lucrative commercial genre people have continued to drag its rotting and bloated corpse back into the studio. Lil Wayne’s latest release sees him taint his traditional rap formula with a myriad of riffs and beats so bland they wouldn’t even make it onto a Sugababes’ B-side.

Lil Wayne has been described as “an auto-tuned Kid Rock” though that’s somewhat debatable as not even the latter’s lyrics are quite as hackneyed or trite as anything on Rebirth. The sublime word play of Tha Carter is at best a distant memory and at worst a heart-breaking reminder of better times. Everything about the album screams bargain basement; the lack of depth is laughable as Lil Wayne rattles through 45 minutes of bizarrely emotionless angst. The record’s childish themes and poor delivery make a mockery of the self-proclaimed “best rapper alive.”

Rebirth opens with the banal and unsophisticated ‘American Star’: “Listening to my own voice in my black Rolls Royce/ Get the girls of my choice to take off their shorts and blouses.” As you can see: tragically unoriginal. The foul aroma of superficiality continues through the equally pedestrian ‘Prom Queen’, a tale of such insipid high school trauma that would make even Busted wince. Lil Wayne seems to have taken all the worst aspects of rock and shoehorned them beneath a rather lightweight rap effort – despite the instantly forgettable track list this album will be remembered as one of the most ill-conceived and blatantly commercial ventures of the decade.