The Cambridge Student "Nice you call that nice? That's not nice, that's art." I shrank back in my seat. They couldn't have read my notebook from that far away, could they? Surely note. The Threepenny Opera is a glorious satire of capitalism, set in a world where beggars are run by red-tape and burglars are "thinking of going into banking". The director, Adam Barnard, has set this production in the silent movie era of the 1920s. At intervals, a flickering card appears on a screen by the side of the stage to announce the scenes in the manner of the films of the day. The setting was done intelligently, even if its intrdouction left something to be desired in terms of subtlety (the first speech just happens to contain the line "it is the 1920s, after all"). One of the highlights of this production is the use of the entire theatre. When you enter the auditorium, you are likely to find prostitutes lounging on the bannisters, policemen strutting up and dound and dishevelled individuals asking for schange. at one point an actor is chased through the auditorium, forcing an entire row of the audience to stand up to let him and his pursuers past. Choreography was used exceptionally well in this production, imparts another level of ironic off-beat humour, from the prostitute standing by the "give and it shall be given" sign, to Mr. and Mrs. Peachum singing "Wherever you go, I'll go with you," while trying to pull each other in opposite directions. The actors began a little uncertainly, but soon made me criminally negligent of my notebook, for the simple reason that I didn't want to take my eyes off the stage for a moment. There are some wonderful comic scenes, especially when Mack the Knife's band of "bunglers and apes" try to organize a wedding celebration. Nearly every member of the cast put in an above average performance, with Ben Lumsden, Simon Masterton and Rebecca Mills being simply outstanding. What is quite exceptional is the extent to which they were able to bring every single character to life, and to portray them as distinct individuals. For this I have the sincerest praise. During the first half of the show, the director lets the more ludicrous characters take over large parts of the action, and play their scenes for as many laughs as they can get. Though this made for a glorious first half although in contrast the second half appeared to us to lack pace and in comparison with the action that preceded it. I think a greater sense of the dynamics of the production as a whole would have been of benefit to the director. This is a great production, which will entertain and amuse throughout. Touch after touch will make you smile in admiration and delight. Unlike some of the people who, during the course of the show, will advance on you with outstretched hands, it really does deserve your support. Edmund Richardson

Varsity It's metadrama, darling When Brecht's Threepenny Opera was first performed to the bourgeois circles of Berlin in 1928, its gleeful self-satirising musical format must have spoken uncomfortably to an audience thoroughly accustomed to shows of what Nietzsche had pompously termed 50 years earlier, the music of the elite "German Spirit". Adam Barnard's new production maintains Brecht's sharp mildly accusatory metatheatricality, adding to it a brave new dialogue with the audience thanls to the incorporation of elements of cinema. Clapperboards, a "silent movie" screen introducing each scene, and even the audacious (but ultimately justified) addition of a Chaplin-esque Brecht character to provide prologue, all complement the cineamticall styled acting and staging of the play. If Barnard's intention is to satirise warmly our own comfortable nostalgia for movie culture, his project is a success: Polly (Susanne Sheehy) reminds us of a self-conscious Judy Garland, and Macheath (Ben Lumsden) of a smug, roguish Errol Flynn. This was an immensely entertaining collective performance. Comic timing was often brilliant amongst the gang of outlaws, while the cosily domestic gang of prostitutes provided a reckless show of female rivalry. Brecht's famous "alienation" effect was carried off with an air of gimmicky frivolity, often taking the audience by surprise. Particularly effective were the scenes in which Lucy ran manically through the audience, and when she and Polly held up signs during an argument (" I don't like her / we're going to sing about it"). The musical performances from many of the leads were, however, rather disappointing - even if the choreography was always brilliantly exaggerated. The best rendition by far came from Rebecca Mills in her only solo as Lucy - notable not only for her powerful voice, but also her suitably deranged comic delivcery. Ben Lumsden, and Stacey Blades as Mrs. Peachum, were also convincing. On a technical note, the orchestra was occasionally too loud for the audience to hear voices - a problem which ought to be overcome after the first night. It could be said, though, that the singing wasn't really what we were there for, as the cast provided us with an energetic evening of satire, song and sex. Ruth Pannell