Walking into the Corpus Playroom, Me and My Year of Casual “Monasticism” offers a glimpse into a very familiar setting. The red plastic cups strewn across the floor contrast the busy newspaper clippings (perhaps shared with the Corpus main show Emma), which create the sense of the academic at work. The set certainly screams ‘room as commonplace book’, and even if the papers are incidental, they are effective.

Emily Knutsson’s one-woman monologue peels back the curtain on life as a student in Cambridge. Her witty, enthusiastic writing renders the ancient monastical guide The Rule of St Bene’t into a fresh, profanity-laden take on the customs and culture of the esteemed university. We glimpse a reflection of the ups and downs and messy fall-outs of the struggle to balance studying with going to MASH.

“Audiences must be ready to participate”

Extended monologues seem to come naturally to Knutsson, who plays Mary in this auto-fictitious expose. She rather knowingly criticises and explains her naming of the character, taunting the lack of originality whilst highlighting its Biblical fitness. It is a play constructed entirely upon this meta-theatrical humour, which Knutsson effortlessly brings out. More impressively, however, is her ability to deliver the ultra-realistic and sudden shifts in direction, as well as some stuttering and self-correction with such authenticity that one might believe that she has really decided to cut out a portion of her monologue on a whim.

Audiences must, however, be ready to participate. This is a key facet of the play’s success. About half of the audience seemed willing to answer the question of “How many of you have ever felt like a whore?” There were times when Knutsson managed to carry off the lack of response without much trouble, but at other times she seemed to falter slightly. This was not for lack of skill, however. Her energy proved itself to be persistent, and, hopefully, the audiences will warm up for her throughout the run.

Also in need of practical smoothing is the interaction between the performer and the PowerPoint. I cannot have been alone in finding Knutsson’s clicking every time she required a slide change as annoying as a more explicit “next slide please.” This became even more troublesome when the slide changes didn’t go so smoothly. Sometimes, the monologue would grind to a halt because the slide had not changed in time with the verbal cues; others, the slides would jump ahead two, and we would catch a glimpse of the punchline of a joke that we hadn’t yet had set up for us. Even so, the producer, Ewan Woods, must be commended for his efforts. He was working the PowerPoint at the same time as the lighting and sound on his own. Most of the time, there was little discord between the monologue and the PowerPoint, but, when there was, it was uncomfortably obvious.

“With some revision and tighter delivery, it has the potential to be a decent offering at the Edinburgh Fringe”

That said, the lighting left something to be desired. At the start, Mary lights a candle, which is never referenced again until the epilogue. Here, the lights dim, until the candle is nearly all that remains. Alas, this seemed to be over before we had time to register that it had begun. A centralisation of the candle – which, quite frankly, seemed like a last-minute addition – could have allowed for the greater variety the lighting needed. As it stands, the play switches from the comedic to the emotional with little signposting of the shift. This is, at times, a detriment to the more emotional scenes.

Stock figures drawn from the ancient world form the centre of the play’s most moving moments. Pan and Poseidon play the arch-villains of her narrative whilst Chekhov and Average Jo(s)e(ph) step out of their stock personas to surprise the audience. However, the lack of female characters (Mary’s mother, sister and grandmother being very quickly dismissed) is noticeable. It perhaps alienates parts of the audience, for whom Knutsson’s depiction of Cambridge’s simultaneous hedonism and monasticism seems a world away from their experience. However, all of her male stock characters are incredibly realistic – the audience participation found little wanting here.

Soundtracked by a medievalised-pop playlist, Me and My Year of Casual “Monasticism” is a raunchy and fun depiction of one student’s experience of Cambridge. There are elements in Knutsson’s tight script with which almost any student can sympathise. But, most importantly, it is a candid, moving depiction of one woman’s search for a path in life. With some revision and tighter delivery, it has the potential to be a decent offering at the Edinburgh Fringe this summer.

Me and My Year of Casual Monasticism is showing at The Corpus Playroom Tuesday 20th to Saturday 24th May at 7:30 pm.

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