UniStats.

The government's much vaunted UniStats website was launched at the back of the week. It'll be interesting to see how students and sixth form institutions use them to make choices about where they want to study.

For Universities it's a chance to acknowledge where they're perceived by their own students as doing well and where the fault lines are.

An initial survey provided good news for Drama St Mary’s with all three of our pathway courses Drama and Theatre Arts, Drama and Physical Theatre and Drama and Applied Theatre recording overall satisfaction levels of over 90%, putting them all in the top 100 out of the 622 registered courses in the UK.

Drama and Theatre Arts did particularly well listed as one of the top ten programmes of its type in the UK. The courses also scored highly on graduate employment.

Where we really stand out is in the percentage of contact time our students receive. Drama students at St Mary's spend 43% of the working week (9 - 5pm) in class. This compares favourably (we believe) we other similar institutions who are offering between 15 - 20%.

Some students arrive here and are surprised by the commitment we expect. They occasionally shoot envious glances at their peers on other courses who rock up for a couple of lectures and a seminar a week and spend most of their time in the library.

It can particularly tough on cold, autumnal mornings to drag yourself into a rehearsal room, knowing your going to working physically for the rest of the day - but we're convinced that the training and investment students put in now makes the difference between disciplined, self-motivated practitioners and moaning, misunderstood artists later. 

You only have to look at the Drama Schools, who continue to produce the vast majority of professional actors in this country, and the levels of training expected of their students to see that our continuing efforts to resource rigorous training conditions for our students is the right way to go. It's good to see our commitment to focused skills based training is reflected in these statistics.

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The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time.

Back at the National this time to see a wonderful adaptation of Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, adapted by Simon Stephens and directed by Marianne Elliot.

The key to the show's success is the almost imperceptible re framing that Stephens pulls off, using Haddon's first person narrative as a journal which, in the hands of a sympathetic teacher is to be presented as piece of theatre. The persuasion needed to enable the main character Christopher Boone, who has Asperger's syndrome, to understand that there is a difference between theatre and lying provides a clever layer and an unusual tension on the idea of a play within a play. In keeping with the novel this theatrical device enables us to feel sympathetic to all of the play's main protagonists.

The production immerses us in Christopher's mind. A brilliantly designed geometric set is augmented by a superb literal lighting design, which brings to vivid life mathematical equations and the secret patterns of the universe. Cold ttechnology helping us to gain clarity about Christopher's epic journey up to London in the most unsentimental way.

The show is littered with fine performances. Luke Treadaway is stunning as Chris. It's a breakthrough performance which, coming on the back of earlier work on War House, confirms him as one of the hottest young actors around.

He gets fantastic support from Paul Ritter, as his embattled father and Nicola Walker, as his estranged and wounded mother.

A beautiful moment at the curtain call when Christopher, denied an earlier stage for explaining exactly how he answered an A-level maths problem, returns to 'out' the shows technology and introduce the technical crew before using them to give us a breathtaking explanation of his proof. For all our love of mystery, secrets and backstage rituals Christopher rightly has the last word, bringing the pure understanding of the autistic mind unambiguously into the light.
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Scenes from an Execution.

To the National to see the first preview of Howard Barker's Scenes from an Execution starring Fiona Shaw as the sixteenth century Venetian painter Galactica, commissioned by the state to create a huge canvass in celebration of the State's naval victory over the Turks at the battle of Lepanto.

Galactica wants to focus on the sinewy horror of the battle. After all 40,000 men lost their lives in less than four hours, but her vivid style and bloody depiction disturb the authorities who would prefer a glorious tribute to the triumph of good over evil.

The dialectical argument on censorship and patronage is a good one and Barker's skill is in making both sides resonate with intelligence and truth. The final moment is key as the work in finally being accepted is rendered immediately impotent and Galactica, recently released from prison to celebrity acclaim, accepts dinner with the Doge, a brilliantly spiky performance from Tim McInnerney.

Fiona Shaw is superb, almost too pitch perfect for the part. As ever she is immersive in each moment, pulling the audience into understanding her unremitting drive and psychological make up. Occasionally though this approach detracts from a clear understanding of the power politics involved and slightly devalues the sense that Galactica is engaged in her own pragmatic decision making process. This is portrait of the artist as wounded animal, all instinct and impulse. I suspect the text affords moments of rational compromise that would complicate her relationship with the state further still. Nevertheless this is about the most complete performance I've seen on stage all year.

For the longest time Barker was seen as the great outsider of the British theatre. His plays shunned by the big producing houses. His intellectual energy deemed too dense for a good night out. His wit seen as exclusive rather than embracing. In a brilliant double irony that won't be lost on either him or Nick Hytner - it's fitting that this play about the dangers of artistic acceptance should now find a home in a lavish production at the largest subsidised theatre in the country.
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The Power of Words.

The first Early Modern Drama lecture this afternoon. We've made a few modifications to last year's programme and whilst we still try and use the sessions to give students a vivid picture of the late Elizabethan and early Jacobean Court, we've focusing far more on Shakespeare and his contemporaries as craftsmen and, in the case of Aphra Behn, women.

This means we're looking ever more closely at the playwright's choice of words and arguing that student actors need to develop a curiosity for and love of language. Shakespeare is a joy for actors because he gives them such wonderful things to say.

Too often undergraduates have had a negative experience of Shakespeare at School and come cowering into University, fearful that their lack of understanding will be exposed and that once more an encounter with his world will leave them staring into the void.

The truth is Shakespeare's language is ours. More than any other single person he augmented our vocabulary.

According to the Oxford English dictionary during the sixteenth century some 12,000 words were added to the English language. About half of them have taken permanent residence and are still in use today. Shakespeare’s work is full of examples of words being used for the first time. It's hard to imagine we'd be able to communicate effectively without them.

When students look for accommodation they're using a Shakespearean word.

When they break up a sentence with an apostrophe they’re using a Shakespearean word.

When they turn on the TV and hear that politician has been assassinated they're hearing a Shakespearean word.

In fact every time they do something with dexterity, every time they feel dislocated the experience has been defined by Shakespeare.

Every time they do something premeditated, or try to emulate somebody else or emphasise a point or demonstrate their anger or meditate in private they're using Shakespearean words.

In fact all of us who live frugally, speak obscenely, find ourselves reliant on others are using Shakespeare to describe our actions.

 If we're agile or prodigious, or modest or pathetic or horrid or alluring or lonely or pedantic or impertinent or cavalier or critical or suspicious we're using Shakespearean words to describe ourselves.

So if you find two people indistinguishable from each other. If your situation is dire. If you set up a barricade or join a mutiny or travel a vast distance or discover a submerged corpse Shakespeare is helping you to explain your state.

If you extract a thorn from foot, feel antipathy, observe a catastrophe or kill somebody in a homicide.You’re simply using words Shakespeare gave to you.

And it’s not just individual words. Shakespeare offers us beautifully turned phrases that we use everyday.

The be all and end all...Break the ice...Elbow room...Fair play...Fancy free...Foregone conclusion...Heart of Gold...Hot-blooded...Housekeeping...Lacklustre...Leap frog...Long haired...Naked truth...Too much of a good thing...A pitched battle...The mind’s eye. All come from the plays and poems that he left for us.

I hope over the next few weeks as we explore the plays and mastery of the London playwrights the students will start to savour the sense of power that a command of the language brings. If you can work confidently with this stuff then you can tackle anything.
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Finding The Anchor.

A lovely end to the week with an induction treasure hunt up in town, most of the staff came to support.

We met the first years outside the National Theatre and sent them off in teams of four or five, along the South Bank, across Hungerford Bridge, up Villiers Street to the Galleries on the North side of Trafalgar Square, up through Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus, along Shaftesbury Avenue into Covent Garden, back down Drury Lane to the Aldwych, along Fleet Street, up Ludgate Hill, round St. Pauls and then back across the millennium bridge to the Tate and The Globe before handing in their papers at The Anchor Pub on the river, where, legend asserts Shakespeare regularly nipped in for a jar or two on his way home. En route there's thrity questions to answer.

Apart from encouraging the students to meet each other, the plan is really is to get them to realise not just want a fantastic cultural resource London is, but how much is free or vastly discounted to them. The world's greatest stage actors, directors and designers show off their work nightly and most theatres offer great deals, if you do a little pre-planning. On the Oyster card the 40 minute tube ride from Richmond up to Sloane Square or the Embankment only costs a couple of quid. From here everywhere worth going is walkable. Everything is very, very close and pretty affordable.

With the students off on the hunt we wandered along the South Bank, taking in the Autumn afternoon. London is still basking in the self-contented glow of post-Olympic adulation and most people exhausted by the revels seem to be happily greeting the change of season. A man in shades played electric guitar in the shallows of Thames as the tide came in. At first the water lapped his feet, then his knees and finally rose up to his waist. A crowd gathered. The first chestnut sellers are stoking their stalls.

At the pub we settled down with drinks and chatted about the department. It's a happy place just now. full of optimism, possibility and the excitement at the new year ahead. After a couple of hours the students started to arrive full of discoveries and surprises. I hope, as the semester progresses, they'll regularly find an excuse to get on the train and head up to catch a show or exhibition.
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Meeting the Freshers.

We were finally able to meet the new intake this afternoon in an hour's induction meeting. It's a big moment both for the students and us as staff. A chance to set out the stall and make clear some of the expectations for the next three years crystal clear.

There's a tension at the heart of University education, made even more apparent by the sharp rise in fees this year. On the one hand students expect something for their money; but not enough research has been done into what exactly that expectation might be. In a consumerist society the temptation is to assume education is a purely transactional arrangement. I give you £8000, you give me a good degree. There are of course other goodies on offer... access to great teaching, social experiences, a safe transition from the childhood home into adult independence. But increasingly the pressure is on the University to deliver the kind of qualifications that will help the graduates to pay back their debt as quickly as possible and begin to construct a decent standard of living for themselves. It troubles me that some students, and indeed institutions, are beginning to equate the new fees with a passive sense of entitlement. It's a fatal mistake.
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So at Drama St Mary's we look at the other hand. We're operating in an incredibly competitive industry where only those who invest their time properly will have much chance of success. Drama training is not a place for eighteen year old consumers to browse and make casual decisions over what they want to commit to and what they don't. It's not useful to pay to opt out.

Much of our initial chat today was focused not on selling the experience of being a student, but rather on the basic requirements to be part of Drama St Mary's. We stress the importance of being early to workshops, of taking the initiative to be ready, focused and alive by the time the session starts. We talked about tactics to avoid being ill, hung over, under energised. We explained how impossible it is to rehearse a scene if one member of the cast is late or off sick.

In many University disciplines - particularly in the Arts and Humanities - the focus is on taking time to think, to explore, to extend the deadline in the interest in improved results or more profound discoveries. All this is great, but being a Drama student has more in common with the kind of training taken on by elite sportsmen and women or those serving in the military. In all these cases others are reliant on your ability.

It's early days and there's so much to learn, so much to be excited by. For now though we insist on these two things. Full attendance and immaculate punctuality at all times. With these in place all things are possible. Without them you might as well flush your fees away.
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This House.

To the National to see a preview of This House, the new play by up and coming playwright James Graham. James came to attention a couple of years ago when his National Youth Theatre commissioned play Tory Boyz, which explored homosexuality in the modern Conservative Party, raised eyebrows at the Soho.

The new work, set during the turbulent parliament of 1974, takes a broader chronological sweep and looks at the tribal loyalties of both the Labour and Tory party, through the ever seeing eyes of their respective whips offices.

Labour are in power... just!  But this is a period where hanging onto power proved far more important than creating and enacting policy. As their narrow majority dwindles with bi-election defeats and dying members, the whips resort to ever more drastic tactics to keep the government from falling.
Whilst the big beasts Heath and Thatcher, Wilson and Callaghan roam and posture in the chamber upstairs, down here, in the grubby engine room, a very different, less dignified, game is being played.

It's all great good fun. Philip Glenister, who has form as seventies rule breaking maverick DCI Gene Hunt in Life on Mars, plays the little known, but highly effective deputy chief whip Walter Harrision with suitable untouchable intelligence. He has excellent support from the spritely Phil Daniels as his boss Chief Whip Bob Mellish. Whilst on the Tory side Julian Wadham and Jack Edwards provide impeccable dramatic balance as the frustrated Humphrey Atkin and Jack Wetherall who, always a half step behind, complain bitterly about the Socialists' spoiling tactics.

Wetherall and Harrison, in particular, had a grudging respect for each other. On the night of the crucial 1979 vote of confidence, which did finally bring down the government, Harrison, realising that MP Alfred 'Doc' Broughton was on his deathbed and too ill to travel down form Leeds for the division, went to see Wetherall to invoke the gentleman's pairing agreement that if a sick MP from one side of the house couldn't make a vote then one member of the other side would abstain to compensate. Wetherall initially refused, saying the vote was too important for the agreement to stand and that any Tory abstaining would, even if the government fell, spend the rest of their political career in the wilderness. Harrison understood the position and made to leave, at which Wetherall, seeing his old sparring partner in despair, offered to abstain himself because he felt not to do so would be dishonourable. Harrison was so moved by the offer, that he refused to except. The government fell by one vote, Thatcher won the subsequent election and the rest, as they say, is history. Wetherall himself went on to become a very popular and unsurprisingly trusted speaker of the house, during the eighties. Harrison remained an opposition MP for a further two terms before retiring, in 1987, into relative obscurity

The gentleman's agreement scene is poignantly acted out at the climax of the play and as with so much of this work suggests that more unites politicians, even in the pre-PR days of class focused presentation, than divides them. In one lovely moment Harrison is caught by fellow whip, and future Blairite Ann Taylor, listening to opera, whilst Atkin walks in on Wetherall engrossed in an episode of Coronation Street. Both deputies are surprised by what they discover.

Graham doesn't just give us a satiric farce on the lengths and limits of parliamentary democracy but also suggests that the seeds of a different kind of political class were already being sown in the confused chaos and narrow margins of the mid-seventies.
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