Friday Five: Io'll Give it Foive: Rating Systems

I am currently on a theatre judging panel, and previously I have been a professional reviewer. Don't get me started on the talent and skill required to review or the inherent complications with reviewing theatre in a small town (you will receive death threats if you say anything negative about a play that someone's mate's in, and woe betide anyone who says that the kid in the school fiasco was anything other than a little angel - it's always better than Broadway...). Everyone thinks they can do it, and, given the proliferation of social media and available platforms, they try. Spoiler: they can't.

Anyway, as I am scarred for life by precocious and entitled responses to reviews ('they just didn't get it' is a familiar refrain from people producing sub-standard work that they think is hilarious), that is not what this post is about. Due to the aforementioned social media attitude, many people don't even read reviews - they just want to see the rating. And in a world where semantically 'average' (which is perfectly acceptable by definition) has come to mean bad, and an A grade is insufficient for your little darling who clearly deserves an A*, how do we rate books, plays, films, etc.?

Our judging guidelines suggest that 1-4 is limited development; 5-6 is well developed, and 7-10 is excellent. According to our mean average (we have eight judges, so we add up the scores and divide by eight), three-quarters of the shows we have seen this year are excellent. I can assure you, dear reader; they are not. But people are afraid to give what is perceived as a 'low' score.

Oftentimes, a simple number out of ten (or five) is sufficient. There was a British TV show called Thank Your Lucky Stars, which ran from 1961 to 1966. As this was before I was born, I never saw it, but I know it featured a segment called Spin-a-Disc in which a guest DJ and three teenagers reviewed three singles. Janice Nicholls, a former office clerk from the Midlands coined the catchphrase, ‘Oi’ll give it foive’, which she said in a strong Black Country accent, and which became a common phrase in our household. 

With certain artistic sports which are included in the Olympics (another topic best avoided unless you want to be in for a long night), the highest and lowest judges' scores are removed so things are supposedly more representative. This is intended to circumvent the Eurovision Song Contest/ Local Theatre Community phenomenon of everyone giving top marks to their best mates. It doesn't always work, but it is a start. Or we could write out formulae and get specific, although still with plenty of room for interpretation, as in some of these rating systems.

1. The Richter Scale: According to Britannica.com, the Richter Scale is a quantitative measure of an earthquake's magnitude, determined using the logarithm of the amplitude (height) of the largest seismic wave calibrated to a scale by a seismograph. Originally devised to measure the magnitude of earthquakes of moderate size (magnitude 3 to magnitude 7), theoretically, the Richter scale has no upper limit, although in practice no earthquake has ever been registered on the scale above magnitude 8.6 (the Valdivia earthquake of 1960). Each increase of one unit on the scale represents a 10-fold increase in the magnitude of an earthquake. In other words, numbers on the Richter scale are proportional to the common (base 10) logarithms of maximum wave amplitudes. Each increase of one unit also represents the release of about 31 times more energy than that represented by the previous whole number on the scale (That is, an earthquake measuring 5.0 releases 31 times more energy than an earthquake measuring 4.0). Confused? Me too - that's why I leave it to the seismologists. 
2. British Board of Film Classification: This one seems relatively straightforward. The focus is 'to help children and families choose well by providing them with the guidance they need to help them choose what's right for them and avoid what's not'. The classifications are - U (suitable for all or 'universal'); PG (Parental Guidance); 12A (Cinema release suitable for 12 years and over); 12 (Video release suitable for 12 years and over); 15 (suitable only for 15 years and over); 18 (suitable only for 18 years and over); R18 (Adults works for licensed premises only). The classification board states on its website that it takes into consideration 'bad language, dangerous behaviour, discrimination, drugs, horror, nudity, sex, violence and sexual violence, when making recommendations. They also consider context, tone and impact - how it makes the audience feel - and even the release format - for example, as DVDs, Blu-rays and VoD content are generally watched at home, there is a higher risk of under-age viewing'. This is not just an organisation designed to spoil your fun, but one which takes seriously its responsibility to prevent the viewing public from experiencing unnecessary trauma. The problems arise because different classification boards have different standards and measures. For example, the Motion Picture Association of film rating system has several different bands (with different age recommendations depending on state) and Americans tend to censor 'bad language' much more heavily than violence. 
3. Magna Carta - Clause 35: Since 1215 it has been enshrined in British law that beer is served in pints (568ml equivalent) and half pints (284ml equivalent). The actual wording is, 'There shall be standard measures of wine, ale, and corn (the London quarter), throughout the kingdom.' This makes perfect sense: you know what you're getting and can compare prices with total transparency. Unlike the system in Australia of pints (which may or may not be the same size as a UK pint), pots, midis, schooners, glasses, handles, schmiddies, butchers, ponies, bobbies and sevens. These are different names and sizes depending on which state is serving your beer. It's annoying and frustrating. Beer should not be messed about like this.

4. Climbing: This is so that wispy-bearded climbers can hang out in cafes drinking mugs of tea and impressing each other with their tales of derring-do and how they plan to conquer the HVD, when it stops raining. As with many areas of specific lingo, they all know what they're talking about and form a club that deliberatly excludes those who don't. The adjective grades attempt to give a sense of the overall difficulty of the climb. This will be influenced by many aspects, including 'seriousness, sustaindness, technical difficulty, exposure, strenousness, rock quality, and any other less tangible aspects which lend difficulty to a pitch.' Apparently it is an open system, which the guidebooks smugly indicate runs from 'Easy, which is barely climbing, to E11, which has been barely climbed'. Along the way we have Moderate (M), Very Difficult (VD), Hard Very Difficult (HVD), Mild Severe (MS), Severe (S), Hard Severe (HS), Mild Very Severe (MVS), Very Severe (VS), Hard Very Severe (HVS), and Extremely Severe. The last category is further broken down into sub-grades from E1 to E11, with the numerical technical grading describing the hardest (crux) move on the climb. You're welcome.
5. The Beaufort Wind Scale: The Shipping Forecast is many people's favourite part of the news, sport and weather radio bulletin. As well as providing a litany of fantastically poetic names (disappointingly many of them are just lumps of rock in the sea), it also enlists the Beaufort wind force scale to deliver weather warnings. The scale ranges from 1.Calm (wind speed <1km/h; probable wave height 0m) to 11.Hurricane (wind speed 118+ km/h; probable wave height 14+m), which is highly scientific with all wind speeds measured at 10 metres above ground using meterological instruments. What is more lyrical are the specifications, which relate descriptions of likely observations on land or at sea. For example, the specification for 5.Fresh Breeze (wind speed 29-38 km/h; probable wave height 2m) is 'Small trees in leaf begin to sway; crested wavelets form on inland waters. Moderate waves, many white horses', while a 9.Strong Gale (wind speed 75-88km/h; probable wave height 7m) is described as, 'Slight structural damage (chimney pots and slates removed). Wave crests topple over, and spray affects visibility'. In case you are wondering about that previously-mentioned hurricane, it is, quite simply, 'Devastation. Air filled with foam and spray, very poor visibility.'

Last Week's Thing

Once again; the main stories that were making the news last week in my view.

9. The aptly named Ryder Hesjedal became Canada's first grand tour winner as he snatched victory from Joaquim Rodríguez on a dramatic final stage of the Giro d'Italia. Rodríguez, the Katusha rider who wore the race leader's maglia rosa for 10 days, took the considerable consolation of winning the points classification by a point from Mark Cavendish.

8. Chelsea won the Champions League Final over Bayern Munich on penalties. It was an exciting game and now they've got a pretty stunning double (having won the FA Cup as well) and I don't begrudge it all - even though they beat Liverpool in the final. Florent Malouda finally let get of the trophy to allow Chelsea to parade it down the Kings Road.
 

7. It's tough being Queen. To celebrate 60 years of the job, poor old Elizabeth had to go to Burnley. She took a barge trip down the canal with Prince Philip and Prince Charles, visited the Weavers area (rejuvenated through the work of Prince Charles' charity) and was 'entertained' at Turf Moor. Obviously she didn't have to watch an actual game (that would be stretching the definition of entertainment a bit too much), but she did have lunch there - Hollands pies perhaps? Apparently Prince Charles is already a Burnley fan, so Him Outdoors now reckons that the mighty clarets are by Royal Appointment.
 

6. State of Origin is a rugby league thing between New South Wales (the Blues) and Queensland (the Maroons). It is a hotly contested title, fought (oops, I mean played) over three games - best of three wins. In the first game, we had it all: biffo; dubious tries; captains whinging that referees don't listen to them (so that's not just a Kiwi thing then...); sinbins and hanbags. Oh, an in case you care, Queensland beat New South Wales 18-10.
 

5. Aftershocks are still shaking Northern Italy after the 6.0 earthquake that hit last Sunday leaving seven people dead, dozens injured, and thousands homeless. Hundreds of buildings have been destroyed across the historic and prosperous Emilia Romagna region, and the parmesan production (which contributes two billion Euros annually to Italy’s economy) has been badly damaged – Italian government has declared a state of emergency.
 

4. 108 people have been killed in the most recent massacre in Syria. In the town of Houla according to a United Nations statement the offensive "involved a series of government artillery and tank shellings on a residential neighbourhood" and the Security Council has condemned the action "in the strongest possible terms". Syrian foreign ministry spokesman Jihad al-Makdissi insisted that it was not the government and is blaming terrorists for the attack. The rebel Free Syrian Army (FSA) warned that unless the international community took concrete action it would no longer be bound by Annan's UN-backed peace plan and his April 12 ceasefire which has been violated daily. Adviors to the UN warn that civil war is imminent.

3. Schapelle Corby has had her prison sentence for drug smuggling reduced by another five years, so she is due for release in September 2017. At 34 years old, she has already served eight years of the term and appealed for clemency due to suffering from mental depression in prison. Indonesian law imposes harsh penalties on drug traffickers (she is convicted of trying to smuggle 4.1kg of marijuana into Bali in a bodyboard bag) and it can carry the death penalty. Apparently some people in Indonesia are outraged that she has been given clemency because she is a Westerner. Tensions abound when politicians and lawmakers draw comparisons between terrorism and drug smuggling.

 

2. Robin Gibb died aged 62. One of the members of the Bee Gees he was a voice of a decade and, with his brothers in the band, received a CBE in 2004 for contribution to music. It may not be my music, but Saturday Night Fever is certainly memorable. As are the hairdos and outfits.

 

1. Sweden won the Eurovision Song Contest with a song that sounded like Kate Bush trying to escape from an asylum. The wind machine was so overworked that it produced snow, and the angry little moth was happy, apparently. The song is called Euphoria. The entry from the UK sung by Englebert Humperdinck came second last with a total of twelve points, barely above Euro whipping boys Norway (of nul points fame). I liked the Russian Baboushki who came second and were clearly the audience favourite. This is a big deal in Austrailia, apparently. People have parties and play elaborate drinking games - I will blog about this further.
 

Community Matters

In the aftermath of the Christchurch earthquake, many buildings have been damaged. This is nothing compared with lives lost, but it still has a big effect on the civic community. People identify with buildings; be they churches, cinemas, schools or theatres.

Children are sharing schools; they are taking it in turns to use the classrooms and facilities, causing great disruption to the parents who have to drop them off and collect them at odd times, and putting added pressure on public transport already coping with infrastructure challenges, but at least education (and some semblance of normality) is being continued. Iconic buildings such as cathedrals and art galleries must be demolished or rebuilt as they are structurally unsound.


The Christchurch Repertory Theatre, where I performed in a prodction of  Emma in 1998 

Dramatic socities have to cancel their productions as the sets are damaged, the theatres condemned, and, in a couple of horrific cases, the actors are dead. There is hardly a person in Arrowtown who doesn't know someone affected by the earthquake. Local schools are innundated with Christchurch refugees; anyone with family and friends in Canterbury has had extra visitors, and we all share their grief and anguish.

The day the 6.3 magnitude earthquake struck, I had a rehearsal planned for the evening. I am directing a play for the Arrowtown Entertainers who perform annually at the Arrowtown Autumn Festival. Usually I don't allow the outside world to intrude on the rehearsal space (check your daily woes at the door; we are here to work), but looking at the glum faces around me and feeling shaken myself, I knew I had to address the situation.

Putting all this into perspective, you have to wonder - does theatre really matter? I think so. As humans we draw strength from the support of our neighbours and community. Theatre is community by its very nature; individuals working together to produce something greater than the sum of its parts. I believe that theatre and the arts in general raise us to another level. And community spirit is clearly evident in local theatre productions.

Meanwhile in Britain, David Cameron's party are busy slashing the art's budget. There have been a few howls of indignation from the left wing press and the thespians themselves, but mainly this has passed under the bridge with barely a ripple. I was disappointed, but not suprised. After all, what else would you expect from a party that infamously declared, "There's no such thing as society"?

Christchurch Earthquake

Thank you everyone who has asked; I am fine. The earthquake that has devastated Christchurch was felt here in Queenstown but there was no damage. So far as I know, all my friends in Christchurch are okay, although obviously severly shaken and traumatised. Some have lost their homes and their belongings but none have lost their lives. My thoughts and love are with all those affected by the earthquake.

On shaky ground

Last night the earth moved. No, really. There was an earthquake at around two o’clock in the morning which shook the house. Chester thinks we are targeting him specifically.

As we are moving house, we have been repositioning things, packing things and creating spaces where previously there was furniture. He doesn’t like this – it unnerves him.

We have locked him indoors so that he doesn’t run away or hide in the removal van. He scrabbles his paws against the cat flap which no longer wafts open at his touch, so we have blocked it with boxes. He walks around in circles, yowling. He has to use his litter tray rather than popping out for his morning ablutions – this is undignified and unacceptable. He suffers in less than silence.

Finally last night he curled up on our bed after pacing back and forth and chewing up cardboard for hours. Just after he had settled there was a rumbling, a bang, a crack and a shake. He leapt off the bed and recommenced the vocal complaint (as only Burmese can do).

He is affronted. He is disturbed. I keep telling him that there is no way on earth we would ever leave him behind but I can tell by his furry little face that he doesn’t understand. His little world is coming apart at its seams. I feel responsible, but not for the earthquake.