Theatre and journalism: that I enjoy getting involved in both probably makes me a minor anomaly at Cambridge. The apparently unbridgeable divide between journalists and thespians has always bemused me.

But I assure you, meeting with directors Johnny and Pandora and producer Maddie of this week’s Corpus mainshow, The Goat, Or Who is Sylvia?, was an entirely civil, even friendly affair. When I asked the team for their opinion on the apparent animosity, the initial response suggested that both sides maybe take themselves a little too seriously. Although, with the high ambitions and even higher level of professionalism that these ostensibly amateur endeavours promote, it’s justifiable that students would be taking things so seriously. There’s an almost grudging interdependence: the plays provide the reviewers with their material, but the reviews can also provide the plays with an audience.

As Maddie emphasises, “from a purely economic point of view it’s about breaking even,” – selling tickets. Reviews are perhaps the most visible platform for generating discussion and buzz about plays, and sometimes the most abysmal ratings generate the most discussion of all, with the potential to fill the auditorium. The age-old cliché that ‘there’s no such thing as bad publicity’ rings true. These might be amateur productions, but ultimately, even if the company is unpaid, putting on a play costs real money.

The team behind The Goat are hyper-aware of this fact. Having developed a vision for their production, having received the go-ahead to put on the play, and having received confirmation that they could purchase the necessary rights for the script, the team came across an unexpected, non-negotiable stipulation: it could not be reviewed.  

Nevertheless, they never wished they could back out or choose a different script. Nor did they consider breaching the stipulation, despite a different production apparently flaunting the same conditions last year; their praises were sung and they ended up taking the show to London. I wonder, perhaps a little provocatively, if the lack of reviews takes some of the pressure off the opening night performance. Indeed, Pandora tells me how at one point they floated the “light-hearted suggestion that we would invite them, see the review, and then tell them that for legal reasons they can’t publish it.” But as the directors point out, the much bigger fear is performing to an empty audience. 

So what’s their solution? Well, in this case, it seems that this rookie team have just decided to takes things a little less seriously. On the day of our meeting, two of them had been up since 5.30am driving to Wembley and back to pick up a taxidermied goat for the production. They were clearly exhausted after three weeks of rehearsals (and let’s not forget we’ve all also got degrees to be getting on with). And for what? 

The phrase they repeatedly use is ‘clowning around’, emphasising that it all boils down to having fun. They don’t have any aspirations to enter the professional theatre world; they just want to take advantage of the incredible resources and environment available to them to do something new, break the weekly ‘monotony’ of library to Sainsbury’s to Cindies and immerse themselves in the creative fun.

And indeed, the reviewing problem has meant that the whole team has had to resort to creative ways of publicising the play, including this recent fashion shoot in Varsity. They tell me that at one point they even considered distributing goat curry at the Sidgwick Site, though it turned out not to be feasible. And of course, flyering. Isn’t it frustrating though, at times, that you have to do these fairly monotonous tiring jobs just to get seats in the audience? Not according to Pandora, who had a great time: she was even chatted up by one fourteen-year-old boy who would only take a flyer if she wrote her number on it.

Which all leads me to consider that maybe a broader lesson can be learnt from this unique case. Why don’t we put down our swords (or pens) and remember the reason we’re pouring so much effort into avoiding our degrees: we’re all just trying to have some fun.