This piece follows something that has bothered me since the week one production of Uncle Vanya at the ADC. I should preface this by saying that I thoroughly enjoyed the production and I think it featured some of the strongest performances I’ve seen in Cambridge. Yet one question lingered: why would you choose to put on this play? What I mean is that Uncle Vanya centres around the 47-year-old Vanya and his increasing anxiety, frustration and sadness about his age and the realisation that he has wasted his youth: “You’ve blighted my life! I haven’t lived, I haven’t lived! […] I have destroyed the best years of my life!” he says in his moment of frenzy.

I’m not denying that there are relatable parts to the play, and moments that encouraged contemplation and sympathy in its audience, but the play simply does not work if you have a student in their early twenties playing Vanya. How can it, when the actor cannot entirely relate to the words that they are saying and distracts the audience by highlighting the discrepancy between the actor and the character’s age? I think that if we (the theatre makers) reframe our idea of student theatre and recognise it as the product of the unique conditions it is made in (restrictions of budget, time, actors and resources) then it can forge its own identity instead of mimicking what we see in professional theatres.

“It’s as if the highest accolade that a production can strive for is to be almost as good as ‘the real thing’”

‘Imitation’ is a word I keep coming back to. Like Ribena in a wine glass, it draws attention to the moments that take us out of the theatrical illusion and show up the limitations of our attempt to create theatre. It’s as if the highest accolade that a production can strive for is to be almost as good as ‘the real thing’ rather than using the circumstances of its creation to be ambitious in different ways.

The BATS week six show Request Programme (directed by Eoin McCaul) provides a good example of how ambition can be born out of restriction. The play’s premise is simple: one actor, one hour, no speaking. The simple concept experimented with an audiences’ ability to scrutinise an actor and how that, in turn, shaped an audience’s response. McCaul pushed this experimental concept further by featuring a radio that was played live each night as lead actor Olivia Kiely freely changed channels. The result was fascinating, as each night’s audience effectively saw a different play depending on what song played, or what was on the news that night. By simplifying some components right down it left space to explore the theatrical potential of other elements.

Another piece that comes to mind when I think of student theatre success stories comes from last year. Those of you that were lucky enough to see Raffaella Sero’s original play It’s OK, I Still Think You’re Great (directed by Lania Hamilton) would have been blown away by Sero’s ability to capture how it feels to be an adult in their early twenties. The strength of this piece came from a different place than Request Programme. Taking place at a kitchen table in a student flat, it felt like a play that knew its demographic and wrote for the people sitting in its Cambridge audience. This production’s strength lies in its relatability and exceptional writing, proven by its current extended run at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe Festival and most recently in the Barons Court Theatre in London.

“We should be responding to the limitations we find ourselves with by finding alternative and inventive ways around them”

These two examples worked for different reasons but demonstrate different ways we can escape the caveat of ‘it was great!… for a student show’.

Which brings me to the main reason why shows like Uncle Vanya do (and should) get put on. I think the value that they hold is separate from the previous two I’ve mentioned. That is, they give students (and indeed, Cambridge locals) a reasonably accessible opportunity to see Chekhov played out on stage. The iconic shows that are staged (The Crucible and Sister Act come to mind from this term) give students an opportunity to participate in shows they love, and can engage practically with texts they may only ever have read in supervisions.

I should also note that it is the ADC Theatre that most frequently puts on more ‘well-known’ plays. Half commercial and half student-orientated, this theatre in particular is one that needs to make its money back. I am all for theatre being self-sustaining and profitable to the people who make it, but I would argue that it is not always conducive to producing new and exciting student theatre. This is a shame when our privileged access to college/external funding provides us with something of a safety net. This pre-professional period provides a unique window to explore theatrical risks before the financial pressure of theatre post-university.

This is all to say that I think student theatre is at its best when it is not trying to imitate a kind of ‘professional’ theatre. We should be responding to the limitations we find ourselves with by finding alternative and inventive ways around them instead of pretending that we aren’t students putting on a show. This is something I would encourage those pitching shows next term to consider: to be clear in why you are putting on a show and what it can offer to the students that come to see it.