Student Life
In sickness, health, and wrongdoing: ‘The Drama’ in review
CW: Gun violence.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” is the driving question of Kristoffer Borgli’s The Drama. The film centres around a couple whose otherwise perfect relationship is abruptly destabilised by the revelation of a shocking piece of information, mere days before their wedding. Simultaneously thoroughly thought-provoking, highly tense, and remarkably funny, it deals with issues of judgment and redemption, and has consequently fostered substantial debate and discussion.
It makes sense, then, that when I first heard about The Drama a few months ago, it was because my social media feed was suddenly flooded with discussion of the film’s ‘twist’, with people calling it shocking, controversial, and even problematic, although nowhere could I find exactly what this twist was. This mystery, aided by an innovative marketing campaign – most notably a wedding announcement in a real-life Boston newspaper – and the appeal of its A-list leads, had me curious and more than a little excited when I sat down to watch this film in my local cinema.
With the film labelled a romantic comedy, the opening scene certainly lives up to that. An awkward yet endearing meet-cute at a coffee shop sees Charlie (Robert Pattinson) approach Emma (Zendaya), pretending to have read the book she is engrossed in. He becomes increasingly more embarrassed as she appears to resolutely ignore him, but as it happens, she simply can’t hear him, being deaf in one ear and listening to music in the other. Once he succeeds in getting her attention, sparks begin to fly, and we’re presented with a short montage detailing the next stages of their love story. In these first few scenes, the film does an excellent job of getting you to connect with these characters in such a short space of time. You know you want to root for Charlie and Emma; yet at only the 15-minute mark, you do wonder where the story is taking them next. Where does the titular ‘drama’ come into this picture of expected marital happiness?
This is where the promised ‘twist’ comes in. Charlie and Emma are taste-testing wines while deciding on a wedding menu with their best man and maid of honour, when the four of them take it in turns to confess the worst thing they’ve ever done. The first three answers are a little disquieting, but none prompt any real moral outrage from the other characters. Finally, Emma confesses that, as a teenager, she planned and intended to carry out a school shooting. What’s more, her partial deafness stems not from birth, as she had previously claimed, but from holding a rifle too close to her ear when practising with it. The bulk of the film deals with the fallout, and indeed the drama, of this confession, finally exploding in a chaotic and messy wedding that perfectly demonstrates the aptness of the title.
For a film that grapples with morally complex ideas and centres around a particularly contentious topic, it may seem odd to point to comedy as one of its strengths. Nonetheless, what stood out most to me about The Drama was precisely its funny moments. The humour is most successful at its bleakest, one highlight being the exquisite dark comedy of an ebullient wedding photographer telling the couple – both clearly still reeling from the revelation – about the schedule for “shooting” photos. The line “shooting grandparents TBD” is hilarious in its absurdity. Likewise, the repeated anticlimax of a younger Emma trying to film a video manifesto with complete seriousness – not to mention decked out in all-black clothing and posing with her rifle – being persistently interrupted by mundane computer alerts makes for particularly comical, if also distinctly uncomfortable, viewing.
This is not to say that The Drama makes light of gun violence. Instead, it deals with relevant questions about morality in an intriguing and insightful way. It is a strikingly nuanced take on a familiar question: can people who have done bad things change? The decision to use a planned school shooting to interrogate this idea is interesting, since it is one of those acts that is often viewed in black-and-white terms. It is difficult to conceive of someone who has gone as far as to plan one out as a ‘good person’, no matter how much personal growth they have undergone since.
The film acknowledges the complexity of this issue, with Emma’s confession receiving much worse reactions than the others, despite the fact that she is the only one who has not actually carried out her ‘worst action’. Rachel (Alana Haim), for one, admits to locking a child with learning difficulties in a closet for at least a day. Regardless of which is actually morally worse, Emma’s planned act is viewed as inherently more appalling due to the greater significance school shootings have assumed, particularly in recent decades, within our moral landscape. Borgli further complicates the moral question by having Emma back out from her plan, not due to any virtuous change of heart, but simply because another shooting occurs before she can carry out her own. Her road-to-Damascus moment soon follows, yet we are given the impression that, if not for circumstances outside of her control, she would have done it, and we are forced to consider whether this is as bad as actually going through with it.
Above all, with Norwegian Borgli as director, The Drama offers a European perspective on what has come to be seen as a distinctly American problem. It is fundamental to the narrative that Charlie is English – having grown up in a country with strict gun laws, he struggles to understand Emma’s reasoning, attempting to rationalise her actions by blaming American society’s attitudes to guns, a perspective that I found myself readily able to sympathise with. At one point, Rachel scornfully asks him whether he thinks America is to blame for Emma’s planned shooting, and although he denies it, the answer the narrative gives is, at least in part, yes. This is hinted at later on in the film in a brief but unsettling moment, where Charlie off-handedly points out that there was a mass shooting the other day, simply to reassure Emma when she overhears two guests discussing shootings at the wedding. In just a few lines, Borgli is able to touch on a wider truth about American society – gun violence does occur nearly every day, to the point that it can be mentioned in such a casual manner. There is no overt pro-gun control argument in the film, and yet it makes a point of illustrating how gun violence is a problem that is not just individual but societal.
The Drama is a film defined by second chances. It opens with Emma giving Charlie the chance to re-introduce himself after a clumsy first attempt, and ends with both of them giving each other a second chance in a poignant scene reminiscent of the opening: they re-introduce themselves, signalling a fresh start, leaving both of their mistakes and wrongdoings firmly in the past. The questions raised about whether redemption is possible are answered staunchly in the affirmative by such an ending.
By no means a perfect film, The Drama is nonetheless a captivating watch that more than delivers on the promised drama, chaos, and mayhem throughout. It doesn’t always get the balance right – there are moments where the school shooting seems more a plot device than anything else – and yet its happy resolution makes a thought-provoking contribution to discussions around personal growth and morality.
The post In sickness, health, and wrongdoing: ‘The Drama’ in review appeared first on Cherwell.
Student Life
University of Oxford paid private firm for ‘intelligence’ on student protest
The University of Oxford has been named as one of twelve UK universities that paid a private intelligence consultancy run by former military intelligence officials to monitor student activism and protest movements, in a joint investigation by Al Jazeera English and Liberty Investigates.
Freedom of Information (FOI) requests sent to more than 150 universities across the UK have revealed that Horus Security Consultancy Limited was employed by twelve universities to conduct covert counter-terror threat assessments on students involved in protest movements, particularly pro-Palestine activism.
It is alleged that the firm was contracted by universities to collect and analyse open-source data, which included student social media feeds, and to compile intelligence reports on protest activity. The investigation discloses that the firm has received at least £440,000 from universities between January 2022 and March 2025.
The other universities that paid Horus to monitor protest activity include Imperial College London, King’s College London, University College London, the University of Bristol, the University of Nottingham, and the University of Sheffield. There is no indication, the report specifies, that the purported surveillance is illegal.
This follows a previous investigation, conducted jointly by Liberty Investigates and Sky News last year, which examined the responses of a range of UK universities to pro-Palestine student activism. The University of Oxford refused to comply with the FOI request. However, the cache of emails disclosed by the FOI request to Oxford Brookes University revealed correspondence, forwarded to Oxford Brookes, between the University of Oxford and Horus Security regarding an Oxford Palestine Solidarity Campaign march.
A spokesperson for the University told Cherwell: “Allegations of surveillance are inaccurate. External security consultants are used solely to carry out safety risk assessments for public events and known protests – not to monitor individuals or political activity.”
An Oxford student involved in the 2024 protest action for Palestine told Cherwell: “It is disgusting but unfortunately unsurprising to learn that the University prioritised the digital surveillance of its own students over a serious institutional reckoning with its financial support for Israeli apartheid and genocide.
“Oxford University were, in Trinity term 2024, confronted with a movement that commanded widespread support among students and staff. Rather than engage meaningfully with the popular movement for divestment, they chose to contribute to the stifling of protest action for Palestine.”
Horus Security was founded in Oxford in 2006 by former British Army intelligence officer Jonathan Whiteley, as a project within the University of Oxford’s security team. According to its website, Horus provides security screening to “some of the most highly regarded, high-profile organisations in the world”, enabling them “not only to conduct pre-hire checks, but also to protect against insider threats, saving their organisations from disruption and from future and current employee risks”.
The director of the firm’s parent company, Horus Global, is the former Colonel Tim Collins, who helped to found the right-wing, pro-Israel thinktank, the Henry Jackson Society. In recent years, he has called for non-British protestors for Palestine to be deported from the UK.
Student Life
We need to talk about Oxford’s gossip problem
Gossiping is an innately human pastime, existing long before our generation, and a beloved form of social interaction that teeters on the boundary between harmless fun and cruelty. Yes, we all understand how damaging gossip can be when taken too far, but a sprinkling of rumour-exchanging is nothing but a guilty pleasure. In fact, as young people trying to build a community, gossip can be a tool of social necessity, building bonds with one another over the latest overheard dramas. However, in the age of social media, a new and improved variety of circulation has had a surge in popularity: the highly celebrated university gossip pages. What began as a handful of University-wide Instagram accounts recounting stories of minor scandal and light-hearted humour has quickly snowballed into countless pages that thrive upon shock-horror value and often vicious invasions of privacy. This phenomenon must be brought to an end.
The concept of circulating gossip from an anonymous source has perhaps been sensationalised by the media. Shows like Gossip Girl and Bridgerton paint a glorified image of a world in which the intricacies of people’s personal lives ought to be brought to light, often in the name of truth-telling or bringing about justice. Storylines like this appeal to us, as we cheer on the Lady Whistledowns of the world while sitting under a blanket with a cup of tea, comfortably outside of the realms of a world where secrets are freely exposed. But suddenly this world isn’t so separate from our own as the popularised university gossip pages have taken on the responsibility of uncovering what many would rather stay hidden – without an “XOXO, Gossip Girl” sign-off in sight.
The key ingredient in social media gossip accounts is anonymity. The anonymous creators deliver their news from behind a screen, controlling an account that cannot be linked to them in any way. Mysteries such as this inspire excitement, allowing the mind to wonder as to who could possibly be behind the mask – all of a sudden, anyone around you could be leading a double life. But the power of anonymity turns sour all too soon as the concealment of a screen separates people from the impact of their words. This can clearly be seen with gossip accounts, where any morsel of scandal – no matter how viciously articulated – is made public with the simple click of a button. The anonymous writer gets the rush of causing a stir and simultaneously the freedom from being tied to any real-world consequences, without even a second to check the truthfulness of any submissions. I doubt @oxscenes existed in the Spiderman universe, but it is true that “with great power comes great responsibility”… a responsibility dodged by the cloak of social media.
Another element that fuels readers of these gossip pages is a growing hunger for increasingly shocking tales. It is a human trait to seek out greater shock value, but as we become attuned to scandal, we crave even more absurdity in the tales that are being fed to us. And with demand comes supply, leading to the owners of these accounts spitting out submissions day after day, with a constantly lowering bar for what is permissible. This is certainly evident in some of the crude, hateful and divisive language that has been normalised by gossip pages. The subversive tone to these rumours incites a sense of danger that can be addictive. But when we take a step back, it is clear that this danger is all too real.
Many may look away from this issue, seeing gossip pages as nothing more than light-hearted fun between students and a source of entertainment in our often gruelling academic lives. Such supporters often fall back on anonymity, not of the writers, but of the victims. Secrets shared or rumours overheard are never explicitly linked to individuals, so no harm can follow. However, not only is this naïve, but it is also inaccurate. Even unnamed revelations have damaging consequences, as we see a culture of shame and ostracisation beginning to form. Also, with the development of more and more gossip pages that relate to specific cross-sections of Oxford University, such as college or subject groups, the blanket of anonymity for victims thins until the identities of those being exposed are barely veiled. Indulging in these rumours is always fun up to the point where you become the brunt of the joke – when that time comes, can your secrets really stay safe with you?
In this environment in which we feed on improprieties and intimate revelations, the strongest effect is perhaps that had on personal relationships. Secrets have become our currency, and as a result, holding your cards close to your chest is a necessary survival tactic to avoid being the newest laughing stock of the Oxford community. Where students once felt comfortable confiding in their friends, a twinge of apprehension creeps in as we are led to wonder who we can truly trust. Clearly, there are those who are willing to brandish what other people want to keep hidden for the sake of cheap entertainment. No one wants to believe it could be their friends – but it is someone’s. Gossiping is an innately human pastime, but a line must be drawn between casual conversations amongst friends and widespread platforms inciting cruelty and fear. With social media’s normalisation of this kind of discourse, our private lives have been ripped from us and placed under constant examination. We are not ruthless criminals being brought to justice, nor are we corrupt politicians being exposed for our true selves; we are just young adults trying to get by and inevitably making mistakes. So let’s stop playing the righteous truth-tellers and recognise that some things deserve to stay a secret.
Student Life
It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s theatre: Defining the ill-defined
It has been 93 years since the first performance of Bertolt Brecht’s The Good Person of Szechwan at Schauspielhaus in Zurich. Many critics cite Brecht as the pioneer of the genre of ‘epic theatre’ – that is, a theatre which tells, instead of shows. The protagonist Shen Te frequently changes costumes in front of the audience to become her alter ego, Shui Ta; characters address the audience, changing the set mid-scene. Anthony Lau’s 2023 production featured giant frogs and saw characters entering the stage via a slide. Brecht’s theatre seeks to constantly remind the audience of where they are: in a theatre, watching a play, and not immersed in a mock-realistic depiction of the world. It rewrote the rules of what theatre had been up until that point (in the western world, at least). In 2026, both nothing and everything has changed: theatre continues to constantly re-write and re-perform itself, and thus evades any kind of all-encompassing definition.
A few years ago, donned in a light rain jacket and battered walking boots, I stood amongst a captivated crowd at Green Man Festival, watching Kae Tempest perform from his album The Line is a Curve. Their powerful, spoken-word performance both shook me to the core and rooted me to the spot. It bothered me. It was like nothing I’d ever encountered before – which perhaps reveals my somewhat sheltered view of the musical scene – but it got me thinking about the lines we draw around performance, the role of the audience, the simple idea of telling something to someone, and when this becomes theatre.
As a serial user of etymology websites, I did what I do best and looked up the origins of the word, discovering that it comes from the Greek theatron, which literally translates as ‘a place for looking’. This piqued my curiosity. To all intents and purposes, a discussion of Kae Tempest’s The Line is a Curve should be in the Music section of Culture – right? Tempest has been nominated twice for the Mercury Music Prize, as well as receiving a nomination at the 2018 Brit Awards for Best Female Solo Performer. Then again, he was also named a Next Generation Poet by the Poetry Book Society… so perhaps Books?
This impulse to categorise Tempest’s work was, inevitably, what was holding me back from fully enjoying the experience. Since that year at Green Man Festival, I’ve (somewhat) expanded the horizons of my theatrical experience and, each time, I’ve been confronted again and again with the same question of categorisation – by stand-up comedians, by drag artists, by the chorus in the Greek play I saw in my first year at Oxford. They are all connected by one fact – there was an audience, and there was a performer.
If theatre is, at its most basic level, ‘a place for looking’, then every iteration of it that I’ve mentioned ticks that box. But not all looking is the same, and this is what Brecht grappled with.
Among other things, he wanted to reject the kind of looking which is passive, which gives way to complete immersion, and, as such, does not incite the audience to action. His refusal of a ‘passive’ theatre can be seen everywhere. In a form like stand-up, the audience takes an active role, with their reaction shaping the performance in real time. Even something as simple as asking a member of the audience where they’re from, or what they do, can completely derail the show – as I discovered at a recent Mike Rice gig in Oxford, where a particularly buffed guy in the front row (think somewhere between a gym regular and Jacob Elordi’s hulking, reticent Heathcliff) became the butt of a plethora of jokes – and it’s up to the comedian to decide whether they want to detach or reroute, integrating the new material into their set. Or, the audience can be directly involved in a production itself, with aspects like karaoke and PowerPoint being employed to extract a storyline from those who are, in traditional terms, supposed to be just ‘looking’.
Oxford itself is a place full of performances which blur the boundaries of simply looking. Think of the Oxford Medieval Mystery Plays at St Edmund Hall, where last April, for the fourth year running, multiple locations around the college hosted a series of biblical plays in various medieval languages. The setting was often intimate, with audience members seated on the grass, or simply wandering in and stopping to look, even joining in at points. The idea of a fixed theatre is unsettled, and it becomes less a location than a series of encounters. Improv shows like Austentatious (which returns to the New Theatre this May) are driven by the audience, who submit a novel title which the cast then begin to perform. Student theatre often uses seemingly unconventional spaces, like college bars, gardens, and chapels, to perform experimental pieces.
If theatre seems to resist definition, then it is not because it lacks one, but because its definition is deceptively simple. The ‘place for looking’ embedded in the word itself is never neutral – it can be passive, it can be an environment where empathy is built; detached or participatory, fixed or constantly shifting, it always demands that an audience bears witness to a moment in time, it demands that they do not look away. From Brecht’s insistence on a self-aware audience in his innovation of epic theatre, to Kae Tempest’s genre-defying performances, to the improvised and experimental work which fills Oxford’s stages and spaces, theatre emerges where people gather. Perhaps the question to ask is not what ‘counts’ as theatre, but where and how we choose to look.
The post It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s theatre: Defining the ill-defined appeared first on Cherwell.
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