What’s the difference between Les Liaisons Dangereuses and the Oxford Union?

One is an expensively costumed display of decadent sexuality, political manipulation and ruthless battles for power, and the other - yes, you guessed it - is Les Liaisons Dangereuses.

Except, in Clarendon Productions’ interpretation of Pierre Choderlos de Laclos’ perilously pre-revolutionary novel at the Oxford Playhouse, that’s not entirely true. This is no conventional eighteenth-century reenactment, but a bold, ambitious and imaginative liaison between modern technology and Baroque style. Director Lucas Angeli has taken the unprecedented step of turning Christopher Hampton’s script into a theatre-cum-live-cinema, multimedia experiment. The apparent politesse of high society is undermined throughout by telling details on the giant screen above the stage. So, for instance, while we see the scheming Vicomte de Valmont and his co-conspirator the Marquise de Merteuil affably chatting on stage, the cameras pick out his fingers inching towards her décolletage. Appearance, ma chérie, and reality (even if this particular routine is played maybe once too often).

Not only is the idea an exciting one, and conceptually perfect for this rouged and powdered aristocracy constantly giving veiled peeks at their own depravity, but it’s also full of visual potential. The on-stage contrast between metallic tripods and regency sofas is thrillingly unconventional, and gives a sense of looking behind the scenes at the making of a period drama, like being on the set of The Favourite. It’s a smorgasbord of cameras, cuffs and courtesans.

The live-cinema treatment produces many telling moments. At one point a camera follows Valmont and his latest amoureuse Emilie off stage and into one of the dressing-rooms for a scene of horrific sexual coercion. The intimacy of their location, the closeness of the camera, the panic in her eyes, could never be captured on stage, and the scene also has an uncomfortable, sullying voyeurism about it, as if we ourselves are peeking literally behind closed doors on things that should not be seen, never mind done. Towards the end of the play three women converse, each gazing directly into a camera, and the screen takes us deeply into the pain and desperation behind their eyes, even when not speaking. There’s a magical sequence when a gauze is lowered across the stage, creating a double-screen effect, as the images are projected both on and through the gauze onto the screen behind it. As well as creating a clever visual metaphor of the duplicity and double standards of the characters, it’s just gorgeous to look at.

And outdoing all of the above is Susie Weidmann in the role of the scheming Merteuil. Weidmann is quite simply a magnet for the camera. When it is near her, she faces it, unflinching, cruel, superior and confrontational. Through the lens she fixes her mocking eye on every member of the audience and implicates us in her own wickedness. Hair tied back, filling the screen, she looks like a combination of Lady Macbeth and Sinead O’Connor singing Nothing Compares 2 U.

As if the technical demands of the cameras were not enough, this show also includes an 18-person live orchestra and a full score composed by Lou Newton that runs throughout the show, like a cinema soundtrack. Haunting and occasionally discordant, the music gives an ironic commentary on what the characters say and do, leading to semi-operatic moments such as a scene where Valmont says ‘It’s out of my control’ repeatedly, each time punctuated by a sting from the orchestra.

There is a downside to the sheer ambition of this production. It is trying to do something extremely complex and (as far as I’m aware) never before attempted by a student production, and at times it is let down simply by the limitations and technical knowhow of the people involved. So, for much of the play, the onstage action is obscured by the camera crew, and lighting levels are so low (presumably to keep the screen visible) that one can frequently barely see what is happening. This means that for most of the time the audience’s attention is directed solely at the screen, and we miss the subtle interactions between the two perceptions on offer.

Live, multi-camera directing is a professional skill that takes a lot of training and experience to master, and, despite the many telling shots in this show, there are just as many that undermine the storytelling: people caught on the edge of the screen, cuts that cross the line (making characters in a conversation appear to swap positions constantly), and an unfortunate audio lag that makes the sound out of sync with the images throughout. The impact of these limitations is that, at times, the audience feels excluded from what is happening, and it actually becomes quite hard to follow the plot. On the few occasions that the screen is turned off, it’s a welcome return to conventional theatre.

The programme has no listing for lighting designer, cinematographer or camera director, and these elements are, in truth, notable by their absence.

But it feels churlish to criticise on this basis. Oxford may simply not have anybody with the relevant experience to fill these roles. And when mounting a production with as much ambition and vision as this, hitting the bullseye is impossible. This is breaking the mould, and when you break things, it gets messy. Angeli and his co-producer Sonya Luchanskaya could have spent a whole extra term honing, fixing and learning the techniques of live TV. Instead, they’ve created something imperfect but bursting with potential, and for that they should be applauded. A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a Heaven for? Where they have gone, others can follow, and if it didn’t quite work, it was magnificently flawed. As the Marquise de Merteuil herself remarks, ‘Regret is an essential component of happiness’. Je ne regrette rien.